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etL^-e. 


EILEINE 

OR 

The Invisible Side of a Visible Character 


BY ^ 

BESSIE LEE BLEASE 
w 



F. TENNYSON 

NEELY 

114 Fifth Avenue 

NEW YORK 

96 Queen Street 
LONDON 








'rz^ 

‘5 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Copite RECEfvED 

MAY. 26 1902 

Copyright entry 

hn/. ^ 0 f 

CLASS CL XXc. No. 

^ / § 3 3 

COPY 8. 


Copyright, 1901, 
by 

BESSIE LEE BLEASE, 
io the 

United States 
and 

Great Britain. 
Entered at Stationer's Hall, 
• • • London 


All Bights Reserved, 



EILENE. 


CHAPTER I. 

Old Castle was a primitive, with its main street 
hemmed in by elms on either side. Noble old 
trees they were, serving as shade for the cottages 
at one end of the village and used as hitching 
posts in front of the dry goods and grocery store 
at the other. Each cottage, with its annual coat 
of paint ; its milk house in the rear ; its iron fence 
in front and its flower gardens on either side of 
the front walk, presented a certain sameness that 
could scarcely be disregarded. A typical eastern 
village ; the same fifty years ago as now, and fifty 
, years to come will find it unchanged but for a new 
generation of villagers, who have the same eyes 
as the grandmothers on the paternal side of the 
house, and the same color hair as the grandfather 
on the mother’s side. The same yesterday, to-day, 
forever. 

The early spring morning finds the villager at 
work hoeing in the the little garden patch back of 
the house. The oldest daughter stands in the 
milk-house door, molding the rich yellow butter 


2 Eilene. 

for market, while the whistling of the village youth 
comes from the barnyard. 

A slight variation in the hum of village life is 
heard as the morning express comes puffing into 
the station. Several passengers alight, and among 
them is a tall, well-built woman, who hastens for- 
ward to address a lady quite unlike her compan- 
ions. 

^‘Mrs. Stoar, I believe,” and without waiting to 
hear the reply, continues: ^Tome this way; the 
carriage is waiting to take us to Castelane. You 
must be very weary after your long night ride, but 
I think this cool morning air will soon refresh 
you.” 

‘‘I am sure it will,” replied Mrs. Stoar. ‘‘I 
feel it must be bringing color to my face already ; 
and I must express my gratitude to you in coming 
for me so early this morning. I scarcely ex- 
pected such cordiality, and supposed I should at 
this time be traveling in a public conveyance to 
Castelane, instead of enjoying the pure air in 
this open carriage. So this is Catharine Eccle- 
shire, of whom I have heard so much from my 
most intimate friend.” 

^^Yes,” replied the other, ^^and you are now on 
your way to Castelane, to me the most ideal place 
on earth. You see it yonder on the crest of the 
hill, with its twin towers rising above the verdure 
of the tree tops, and serving as staffs for the Stars 
and Stripes. Visitors wonder to find a real 
English castle hidden here among the mountains, 
and crowned by the American flag.” 

“I echo their wonder,” said Mrs. Stoar. ^^How 
did it happen to be here?” 


Eilene. 3 

grandfather was a nobleman’s youngest 
son/’ Catharine said. ^^He fell in love with a 
peasant girl, and, knowing the bitterness with 
which his parents would receive the news, de- 
termined to bring his bride to the new country 
and here build up a family in the new world 
which would equal that of his ancestors. Having 
wealth in his own right, he set sail for New York, 
and in the course of two years built Castelane 
from the rocks taken from the nearby mountains, 
and from oaks cut from the primeval forests. As 
you see, it stands in the center of a plot of ground, 
one mile square, around which he built a double 
stone wall. His American castle was hardly com- 
pleted when his wife died, and on the same day 
young Eccleshire received word of the death of 
his older brother, which made him Lord Nephi, 
Duke of Eccleshire. The broken-hearted husband 
laid his beautiful wife under the willows and giv- 
ing his little daughter into the charge of her nurse, 
then a young married woman, left for his mother 
country.” 

^^Did he never return?” said Mrs. Stoar. 

^^No, the nurse received money from him both 
for herself and the child until the daughter be- 
came a young woman, when word was received of 
the father’s death.” 

^^But what became of the nurse?” 

‘T thought,” said Catharine, ^^you knew that 
part. No ? Well, the nurse and her husband took 
the little child as their daughter and went into 
Indiana, where, after a few years, the husband 
became a United States Senator and came to 
Washington. The adopted daughter was received 


4 


Eilene. 


into Washington society when word came to her 
of her father’s death, leaving her the old castle 
on the hill, and several thousand pounds. The 
title also came to her, had she claimed it, but 
there was no love in her heart for her unnatural 
relative, and she never tried to establish her rights. 
Before this news had a chance to be known, how- 
ever, the young woman disappeared silently from 
the world at large, and society heard no more of 
her. A few intimate friends know that Catharine 
Eccleshire, of Castelane, is no other than the 
rightful Duchess of Eccleshire. But perhaps I 
have tired you of this romantic story concerning 
my ancestors?” 

“No, indeed. Lady Catharine, if I may call you 
so. I am very glad to know the story of this no- 
ble old building, which I hope will prove a bless- 
ing to me and mine,” said Mrs. Stoar. 

By this time the carriage had reached a large 
iron gate in the stone wall. Catharine stepped 
from the carriage, and pressing a groove in one 
of the stones, the massive doors swung open, the 
horses moved in, and the gate silently swung 
closed. 

“No doubt this seems strange to you, Mrs. 
Stoar, but you must be prepared for a decided 
contrast with the world, you know. You doubt- 
less wonder that as yet you get no glimpse of our 
grounds, but we have yet to enter the inner wall. 
The horses will follow this driveway between the 
two walls around to the stables. Come this way,” 
Catharine added. Passing through a door in the 
inner wall, they penetrated the miniature em- 
pire of Castelane. 


Eilene. 


5 


We will take this cart, which some of our girls 
have brought down, and drive up to the castle, 
which is yet a half mile from here/^ 

Mrs. Stoar silently gazed upon the beauty be- 
fore her. Then she turned to Catharine and ex- 
claimed: ^^Lady Catharine, this k indeed sweet 
tranquillity. My own home, with all its wealth, 
can never equal this. Oh she exclaimed raptur- 
ously, ^%ay you see fit to receive my little daugh- 
ter into this Garden of Eden.” 

^^Do not call it that, Mrs. Stoar, pray. Think 
it rather a paradise,” Catharine said quickly. 

The close double row of elms, clothed in their 
green foliage, was the one dark spot in the sunny 
picture. No geometrical fiower-beds marred the 
scene; no formidable cropped lawn — ^a garden in 
its primitive state. Scattered among the blades 
of grass were naturek own fiower-beds. The dain- 
ty English violets nodded to the daisy from be- 
neath their shields of green. Tulips and crocuses 
lifted their faces from without the long green 
leaves, and gay robins whistled merry good 
mornings from their perches in the trees. Present- 
ly the sound of trickling water comes from the 
rocks and a picturesque stone bridge looms in 
sight. A gay sound of girlish laughter ripples 
over the water and the drivers come in sight of 
four young ladies on the banks of the stream. 

^‘Good morning,” cries Lady Catharine. ^Tf 
those fish are for our breakfast I am afraid we 
shall be rather late,” she adds as she looks at 
the string of trout one of the girls holds up for 
her admiration. 


6 


Eilene. 


! no, Lady Catharine, Muriel took some up 
nearly half an hour ago/^ 

The speaker was clad in a short pedestrian skirt 
and a light shirtwaist. Leather leggins came 
down over her broad walking shoes and a jaunty 
Tam O’Shanter set upon her blonde hair, com- 
pleted the costume. As the two ladies drove on, 
Mrs. Stoar said: 

^Ts that not Mrs. Van Eivan’s daughter?’^ 

^^Yes,’^ said Catharine; ^That is Adella.” 

thought I saw a resemblance to Mrs. Van 
Eivan, although she is a much stronger-looking 
girl than her mother ever was,” Mrs. Stoar added. 

4 : ^ 

The interior of Castelane presented a combina- 
tion of antique architecture, with modern fur- 
nishings, which was extremely fascinating and ar- 
tistic. The dining room, in which Mrs. Stoar 
was ushered by Lady Catharine, certainly seemed 
most attractive that morning. The old oak side- 
boards built in the wall glistened with cut glass 
and silver ; the dainty china closets displayed deli- 
cate bits of ware so dear to a woman’s heart ; nu- 
merous palms placed through the room made the 
breakfast appear to be served in a miniature tropi- 
cal garden, rather than a room of an antique man- 
sion. The windows were open and a great plate 
of violets and ferns graced the center of the table 
and filled the air with their delicate fragrance. 

The two ladies breakfasted alone, for, as Lady 
Catharine said, they had much to talk of before 
seeing the younger women. 

^^Yes,” said Catharine, in reply to Mrs. Stoar’s 
question, ^This is the eighteenth year I have lived 


Eilene, 


7 


here with my girls, of which there are now sixty- 
four in number. My plan is now as at first to re- 
ceive four new pupils annually. They enter at the 
age of two years and stay until they are twenty, 
when they return home. The young ladies you saw 
at the bridge this morning leave Ca&telane next 
month.” 

^Ts it true,” said Mrs. Stoar, ^That these young 
ladies have never beheld a man since entering 
Castelane ?” 

^Tt is very true ; not even their own fathers and 
brothers. You see, the idea was suggested to me 
by the father of one of the young ladies who leaves 
Castelane this year. One evening we were at a 
ball in Washington, where several young women 
made their first appearance. His own daughter 
was one of the number, and he told me how he, 
a man of New York society, dreaded seeing his 
daughter enter upon the social life before her. 
I remember with what force he spoke, as he said : 
'Her fortune will make her a servant of the peo- 
ple. Society will demand of her the display of 
her talents, which might be put to better use. 
She will be thrown among men of the world, some 
of whom I know are not fit to even touch the tips 
of her fingers, and yet I can see their arms around 
her, and can know their whispered words of pas- 
sion in her untutored ear — the same words they 
would speak to women they would not have her 
know of ; and yet here I am, a man of wealth, and 
cannot prevent it. In a few years I will see her 
worn looks, which are the refiections of hard social 
gayeties; I will see her wedded to a man who will 
either be her inferior or her master.^ 


8 


Eilene. 


saw only too well the true logic of his talk, 
and how utterly impossible it was to save his 
daughter from this life which was placed before 
her. 

‘Besides,^ he continued, have a little daugh- 
ter now only one year old who I am afraid will 
never be able to stand the social life that eventual- 
ly must be hers, as my daughter. Yet I, her 
father, must lead her to the altar and offer her as 
a sacrifice to New York’s four hundred.’ 

‘‘Mr. Van Ei van’s words weighed on my mind 
at the time, and a year later, when I determined 
to leave social life and live in seclusion, his words 
came to me. As his wife told you, Castelane is 
not for the world at large. It is strictly for the 
protection of the wealthier girls. Those sent here 
now are to be trained in all possible ways a woman 
should be to fill any position to which she might 
be called upon to enter. Each year she engages 
upon a new line of work, and as she advances in 
the various departments, so she comes to fill the 
highest position, which is the household manage- 
ment. In the meantime, the younger girls are 
going through the apprenticeship of serving. This, 
I believe, the only true way to develop a true 
housekeeper — by knowing the work of her serv- 
ants from her own experience. The little lady 
who brought our breakfast just now, and whom 
you might suppose to be a servant, is no other 
than the daughter of Mr. Bane Stephens, the Bos- 
ton millionaire. She is now undergoing the train- 
ing through which she may some day put her own 
servants.” 

“Well, Lady Catharine,” said Mrs. Stoar, “you 


Eilene. 9 

certainly have a very systematic way of training, 
and you say the young ladies I will meet this even- 
ing have gone through all these stages as serv- 
ants and students, and are now capable of enter- 
ing upon social duties in their homes, in spite of 
the fact that they have never as yet mingled with 
the world/^ 

^^Yes,^’ said Catharine,” and you are to judge 
for yourself whether they are happy or not. As 
for health, I hardly think you can find a more 
vigorous lot of girls. As for their success, ^even 
the ideal can only complete its course by connec- 
tion with the reaV therefore we will have to wait 
to find that out. Each girl who leaves Castelane 
this year is characterized by her own distinctive 
personality.” 

The room into which Catharine now introduced 
her guest was almost oriental in its magnificence. 
The polished mahogany tables gave it the appear- 
ance of a library. The rows of book shelves on 
either side of the room, filled with the choicest 
pages of literature, added to this effect. Couches 
scattered through the room and fioor-cushions in 
abundance gave it the bohemian look. While the 
grand piano at one end displayed another use. 
Seated at the piano was a young woman, while 
by her side stood another with a violin in her 
hand. In a low chair by the side of one of the 
reading tables sat a beautiful girl. At the en- 
trance of Catharine and Mrs. Stoar she came for- 
ward to meet them. She was dressed in a simple 
gown of pale yellow muslin, which clung to her 
beautiful form in graceful folds. At one glance 
it could be seen that no artificial support was 


10 


Eilene. 


needed to keep her supple form in shape. The 
gown, cut square in the neck, displayed a beauti- 
ful throat. Thrust in her belt was a simple yel- 
low rose and another was fastened in her hair, 
which lay in soft black coils upon her head. The 
deep rose tint that lay upon her cheek and the 
easy grace with which she breathed, showed her 
to be in the perfection of young womanhood. 

^^Eilene,^^ said Lady Catharine, ^^this is Mrs. 
Stoar, who is to spend the day with us.^^ 

Mrs. Stoar glanced at the young woman before 
her, and she could scarcely conceal her admira- 
tion. Beside Catharine, Eilene presented a strik- 
ing contrast, and whenever she smiled, the ob- 
server could never forget the effect produced. 
Catharine now called the girls from the piano. 
Both were dressed in muslin morning gowns, and 
so pure and glowing their faces that any gown 
might appear at an advantage upon either. Adella 
Van Eivan, a fair girl, whose sunny curls seemed 
inclined to escape from their fastenings, with 
blue eyes that droop and lift in the bewitching 
manner so common to blonde women, but which 
in Adella had as yet never had a chance to take 
effect but once, and that w^as when the two-year- 
old baby lifted them to Mr. Van Eivan, and he 
almost forgot his promise to the fair-haired mother 
that their little one should enter Castelane. 

Winifred Gerald, taller than either of the other 
girls, excelled them in physical proportions. In 
fact she was one at whom one glance showed she 
was to command and be obeyed. Glistening coils 
of auburn hair lay upon her head, and through the 


Eilene. 1 1 

meshes of her soft white gown her beautiful arms 
were displayed to perfection, 

^^Mrs. Stoar, what do you think of our dear old 
Castelane?” asked Adella. 

She replied: ‘^An ideal place for idealists, as 
well as realists; a home to which I want to trust 
my dearest treasure, my baby girl. Now you know 
I think it the best place that imagined can be 
realized/^ 

^Tor me,^’ said Eilene, ^dt seems home, indeed. 
I would not wish to leave it but to return again. 
Lady Catharine is going to take me to Europe 
when the girls leave, and then we are coming 
back again, are we not?’’ and she looked toward 
Lady Catharine with a loving smile. 

^^Indeed, you should be proud of your girls 
and all I ask is that you bring up my little Astor 
to be like them,” said Mrs. Stoar to Catharine. 

Music was enjoyed after this, and the morning 
passed rapidly for all the ladies, especially Catha- 
rine and Mrs. Stoar, who insisted on discovering 
all the merits of Castelane. 

Meanwhile the other part of the mansion was 
busy. IJp in the nursery were four little tots in 
dainty dresses, just beginning to walk. Two lit- 
tle girls of eight summers were amusing them, 
while out on the lawn the kindergarten children 
were gathering wild flowers for the children’s din- 
ing room. Sounds of merry voices echoed from 
the large kitchen, as the happy little cooks pre- 
pared the noon lunch. The overseeing cooks were 
girls of sixteen, while their helpers ranged from 
eight to fourteen. Each girl had but one dish to 
prepare, and, with the experienced overseers, this 


12 


Eilene. 


was easily managed. The kitchen at Castelane 
presented the appearance of a large cooking school, 
with its white-capped girls moving about their 
work, while in the rear could be heard the merry 
voices of the gardeners, as they worked among the 
flowers. 

Only one difference could be detected in the 
luncheon hour at Castelane and the city home in 
New York, and that was the absence of men, 
either as guests or servants. The strictest mili- 
tary discipline was maintained throughout the 
house ; in fact, they knew nothing else, as they 
had been trained to it from babyhood. In each 
the idea was developed that to be a true woman 
in the broad sense of the world she must be well 
versed in all branches likely to enter into a wom- 
an’s life in any circumstance, and each had 
an ideal pupil or teacher as her example of woman- 
liness. 

The afternoon was busy. Here and there were 
girls with their golf sticks, starting to the links; 
a basket ball game was going on at one side of 
the house, while out in front the merry voices of 
tennis players could be heard. An hour at games, 
and then the music and sewing came. The morn- 
ings were principally occupied with mental stud- 
ies, while manual work took the lead in the 
afternoon. This was especially so with the house- 
keepers, who had their most difficult task in pre- 
paring the six o’clock dinner. The evenings were 
spent as the pupils wished in music, dancing, or 
private theatricals. 

As Lady Catharine and Mrs. Stoar returned 
from a tour through the mansion, the latter ex- 


Eilene. 13 

claimed: mystery to me is how you have 

been able to accomplish so much/^ 

‘^Ah ! Mrs. Stoar, it is only after eighteen years 
of hard work of myself and faithful assistants that 
you see Castelane as it is.’’ 

“And do your assistants never grow dissatis- 
fied?” 

“No; it is a sort of a convent for them, and 
they are happy in their work.” 

“Then they do not care to mingle with the 
world?” 

“No, each one has seen that side of the world 
which has made her unhappy in it. Yet each is a 
type of true, noble womanhood, and is becoming 
sainted in her devotional work to this sisterhood. 
They seem to be happy in preparing their sister 
pupils to enter into society as women capable of 
coping with any with whom they come in con- 
tact.” 

“Do you know,” said Mrs. Stoar, “I really be- 
lieve there are more women in this world than we 
realize who have seen the bitter side of life.” 

“It certainly is so,” said Catharine, “and this 
is the object of Castelane, to so place our girls 
above these disappointments in life. We wish so 
to educate them as not to allow all their interests 
to be centered upon one object.” 

When the evening settled upon Castelane, Lady 
Catharine informed Mrs. Stoar that the girls 
were going to dance in the music room. As they 
entered the room, it did not take long to find the 
central figure there. The girls stood around Ei- 
lene in admiration, as had been the fashion since 
their childhood. Although the pupils in Cas- 


14 


Eilene. 


telane did not agree in many things, yet they had 
been so thoroughly taught the analysis of woman- 
hood that they regarded each weakness as a task 
to overcome; to help each other, rather than keep 
the facts before them. They had studied them- 
selves; they knew their failings; they knew their 
strong points, and with all strength possible 
sought to carry out Castelane^s motto: ^‘Conquer 
self first, and thereby learn to rule others.” 

As Mrs. Stoar studied the different types of 
womanhood that Castelane presented, she saw the 
excellence of their training. Herself a woman 
forced into society on account of her husband’s 
position, she had always retained a dislike for it 
which she was unable to overcome. Not at ease 
in society, she felt her inability to cope with 
other women, and thereby had suffered much. 
This she desired her only child to pass over, and 
accordingly had a desire to enter her at Castelane. 
With eagerness and lightness of heart she left 
Catharine Eccleshire, after having completed ar- 
rangements for the entrance of little Astor in the 
early autumn. With the gentle kiss of Catharine 
still warm on her cheeks, she left Castelane, the 
abode of what seemed to her the noblest woman 
God ever made. 


Eilene. 


15 


CHAPTER 11. 

The morning broke cheerily over Castelane; a 
breeze freshly rustled the trees; the mellow sound 
of the blue bird sounded through the wood ; all 
united to bring an indescribable gladness to the 
physical earth. And yet it had failed to enter 
the hearts of two who roamed through the Castel- 
ane grounds. 

Lady Catharine walked slowly over the soft 
green carpet beneath the trees and thought over 
her whole life. So long had she kept hidden in 
her own bosom the thoughts that at times seemed 
to burst their bonds, and she knew that the day, 
was before her that they would all be set free. 
The time for which she had longed, yet dreaded, 
over which she had rejoiced, yet sorrowed, looked 
for, yet repulsed, had dawned. 

This woman, whose whole nature seemed to love 
and wish for endearment; whose youth so happy, 
and joyful was closed suddenly; this woman was' 
a hermit to the world, accomplishing good unseen. 
Unknown to the public, she was preparing for it 
buds of womanhood, who would blossom forth as 
flowers of new varieties, and who would be known 
by their fruits scattered throughout the land. 
She had experimented upon human nature and 
now the test would be made; then, not until then, 


16 


Eilene. 


her ideal would be realized. Influenced by the 
one bright stream of light that escaped to her 
through the dark cloud which hung so heavily over 
her life, like a plant she drew from it as a re- 
source for the future when she would be able to 
reach out into, beyond the sunshine. 

Pausing in her walk, she heard a sob come from 
the rustic summer house near by. Startled at 
such grief at Castelane, she stepped nearer and 
found Eilene. She entered and drew the weep- 
ing girl’s head upon her breast, while her own 
tears dropped upon the shining black hair. 

‘^Dear little girl, what is the trouble ? Can you 
not tell me?” 

No answer came for a few moments, and they 
sat in silence. At last Eilene raised her head and 
cried out as one begging for mercy; 

^^Lady Catharine, I must tell you, for so long 
I have wished to ask you. Do you remember my 
mother? Did you ever see her? You have told 
me I was brought here before the other girls, yet 
I have never known a mother’s love as they have. 
No loving mother ever came to visit me, and I 
know nothing at all of my family.” 

As she saw the look upon Lady Catharine’s face, 
she hastily continued: 

‘^Not that I could ever love a natural mother 
with more passion than I bestow upon you, who 
have taken a mother’s place in my heart, but I 
only want to feel my mother’s arms around me, 
and feel her kiss; then I could be happy. To-day 
my thoughts have overcome me as I have watched 
Winifred and the others preparing to join their 
loved ones.” 


Eilene. 17 

Catharine Eccleshire sat in silence for a mo- 
ment, for she realized as never before the bitter 
discord in Eilene’s heart. 

‘‘Dearest Eilene,” she began slowly, “would you 
know of that mother who has never let you know 
of her great love and life devotion to you? Would 
you know of that sorrowing mother who has never 
for one moment lost sight of your welfare? Can 
you listen to a long story ?” 

“Yes,” said Eilene eagerly; “do you know of 
her ? Oh ! tell me.” 

“Years ago,” said Catharine, “a woman lay sick 
in an Indiana town. By her side was a babe of 
but a few months. That woman was my nurse, 
and the child was myself; yet her devotion to me 
could not have been greater had I been her own 
child. The young husband took the little one 
from the woman’s arms and handed it to a neigh- 
bor woman who stood by. 

“ ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘if you will, you may take her 
home with you until Elsbeth is better.’ 

“The woman took the child and carried it to 
her own home near by. As she sat with the little 
one in her arms her own little black-eyed boy 
came up, and laying his dimpled hand upon the 
baby, and, as if fearful, yet longing to touch it, 
he exclaimed : 

“ ‘Mother, my baby ? Did you buy baby for 
me ?’ 

“‘Yes, darling,’ the mother asserted; ‘I have 
brought her to stay with you awhile, but run 
away now, baby is going to sleep.’ 

“ ‘Let me go to sleep to; let me hold the baby/ 
and suiting action to the words, the little fellow 


Eilene. 


18 

climbed into the baby crib near by, and lay there 
with his arms raised toward his mother. 

‘Please, mother ; Ted will be careful.^ The 
mother gently laid the little girl in his arms and 
the two soon fell asleep in baby dreams to the soft 
lullaby of the mother. 

“Shortly afterward the nurse recovered and the 
baby, Catharine, was taken to her. As she grew 
she became the pet of the neighborhood and Ted, 
or Edward Dante, became her knight and protec- 
tor. When Catharine grew to womanhood she 
was sent east to school. Each time she returned 
she looked for the friend of her childhood. But 
once upon her return Edward was not at her home 
to meet her. During her last year at school her 
father had advanced in political lines and the resi- 
dents of Murdock now called him Congressman 
Edgerton. His first act was that of depriving 
Catharine of her boy friend. Congressman Ed- 
gerton had secured young Dante a West Point 
appointment. School finished, Catharine’s edu- 
cation was considered completed by two years’ 
travel. 

“She was then a tall, slender girl, with brown 
hair, and with the general appearance of having 
never known the meaning of sorrow. Full of 
vivacity and ambition, of life and hope, she left 
the little Indiana home for the Capital. 

“Their life in Washington was different from 
their own little social gatherings at Murdock, and 
proved a delightful change. She now entered into 
the society of the Capital, and her brilliant con- 
versation and childlike beauty seemed like a new 
bud in the heart of Washington society. Her 


Eilene. 19 

chief pleasure was when with some member of the 
army, and delighted she was to have a bluecoat 
beside her, as they discussed and compared the two 
soldiers, the society officer and the active soldier. 

^^Among these was a certain young officer who 
fell completely under her influence. Often in 
days past had a few words from her urged him 
on to nobler actions, and many a time did he re- 
gret that he was only a poor soldier. Proud and 
handsome, he had seen many a society belle’s eyes 
drop as he looked with unusual interest upon her, 
and he well knew his own power over handsome 
women, but here was a problem. A quiet little 
Western girl had taken him completely off his 
guard as he looked into her deep brown eyes. To 
him she was Catharine of old. 

^^He knew he had nothing to offer this little 
woman ; he knew he dare not ask her to share that 
life which he felt he would so willingly have given 
for her ; he knew his mother’s ambition for him to 
marry a woman of wealth. He was already on 
the road to honor and he knew from the society 
women of his acquaintance he had more than one 
admirer. 

^^He had trained himself to realize that this mar- 
riage to wealth would be the wisest course for him 
to pursue, and had eventually given himself up 
to that prospect. Though at that time he felt that 
he could not be thrown into the company of 
Catharine Edgerton and carry out his mother’s 
plans, yet he knew he would need to guard himself 
but awhile longer, for she was soon to leave the 
Capital for a visit with California friends, and 
then all would be over. 


20 


Eilene. 


“Before Catharine’s departure young Dante went 
to make his farewell call. Then it was he told 
her how Congressman Edgerton had recommended 
him to West Point, and of his everlasting gratitude 
to him ; of his promotion and his future prospects. 
At this he resolved to leave her, but as he looked 
back to the days of their babyhood and turned to 
the beautiful girl before him he threw his mother’s 
ambition aside, he forgot his own aims, and when 
he left Catharine it was with her promise ringing 
in his ears, and the words, ^My Catharine,’ form- 
ing on his lips. 

“He said nothing to his mother as yet, fearing 
for her disappointment in his prospects, and hop- 
ing for a turn in his fortunes. He saw Catharine 
leave for California with his promise to join her 
as soon as a leave of absence could be obtained. 
Three long months passed and then Edward Dante 
started for California to join Catharine with her 
friends. 

“Delightful days they were, those spent among 
the green groves and bright flowers; those days 
of which lovers alone know. 

“It was then that Edward wrote to Congressman 
Edgerton, telling him of his great love for Cath- 
arine, of his own unpromising future, and also of 
Catharine’s returning love, which spoke of her con- 
tentment with the quiet life of happiness they in- 
tended to live until he should be able to give her 
the home she deserved. About this time Mr. 
Edgerton received his appointment as Consul to 
Mexico and young Dante’s letter proved a dis- 
agreeable surprise. For a reason which they be- 
lieved to be for Catharine’s welfare, Mr. and Mrs 


Eilene. 


21 


Edgerton refused to sanction Catharine’s mar- 
riage to Dante. The result of the objections was 
a quiet marriage among the California hills. Two 
more months of happiness and Edward was com- 
pelled to return east. 

^^Before going he placed upon Catharine’s hand 
a quaint old ring, or rings rather, for the two had 
the appearance of one, upon which was engraved 
and set in with tiny opals: ‘Vincit se qui vincit.’ 

^^Edward had been back in Washin^on but a 
short time when Mr. and Mrs. Edgerton left for 
Mexico. They wished Catharine to go with them, 
but thinking she would not like the life in Mexico, 
they at last consented that she should remain in 
the states. But a month had passed when Mrs. 
Edgerton became ill and died, and it was then 
Catharine received her first knowledge that they 
were not her own parents, but that her own father, 
whom she did not know, had died and she was not 
Catharine Edgerton, but Catharine, Duchess of 
Eccleshire. At the good news she rejoiced for her 
own and Edward’s sake, and she hastened to in- 
form Mr. Edgerton of her secret marriage. But 
a cold reply came that her relatives would not 
claim her did they know of this marriage to the 
poor soldier. But this did not prevent her from 
her persistence in claiming her marriage, and she 
wrote to Edward’s mother in New York telling 
her of the marriage, but without revealing her 
true identity, for that she wanted to save as a 
happy surprise to both her husband and his 
mother. 

^^Edward had written but once since his return, 
and that was to say that he was ill. Catharine 


22 


Eilene. 


hoped to go to New York as soon as possible to 
be with him, and she waited anxiously to receive 
a letter from his mother. The letter came, and 
with it one part of the double ring which she had 
sent to Edward. The letter was cold and haughty 
that came from Mrs. Dante, saying she knew 
nothing of Edward’s actions while in the west; 
that he was certainly not very proud of them, hav- 
ing never spoken to her concerning them; that he 
had become engaged to Margaret Sunder, a wealthy 
heiress of New York, prior to his departure for 
the west. She wrote that although she did not 
deem it a parent’s duty to object to children’s 
marriage, yet she had always given Edward credit 
for the judgment of marrying a woman of some 
standing in the world in regard to wealth, and she 
was now proud to say he was showing his appre- 
ciation of his mother’s wishes. 

‘^Broken hearted, Catharine resolved to leave 
California and go to her Castelane home — ^the 
home of her birth. When she wrote to Mr. Edger- 
ton in regard to her intention to remain in Amer- 
ica she received the fortune her father had left 
her, but no mention of the title. Taking her 
schoolmate and companion, the two went to Castel- 
ane-on-the-Hudson, where a few months after- 
ward a little girl was born, the child of Edward 
Dante. Then the young mother made a vow to 
train her child to put faith in no man, but to 
seek to humble that father who had been so heart- 
less. She sought as the child grew to make her 
above the intrigue of man in general. She knew 
her own life would henceforth be in seclusion, yet 
she must have something to occupy her active mind. 


23 


Eilene. 

A plan was suggested by her old friend, Mrs. Van 
Eivan, and the result was Castelane School was 
founded.'’^ 

^^Oh, mother Catharine; it, is so goodT ex- 
claimed Eilene as she stood up and placed her 
gentle hands upon the mother’s white hair. Then 
putting her arms around Catharine, who seemed 
unnerved at the rehearsal of the story, Eilene sat 
beside her. 

^^Dearest mother, if you only knew how I love 
you; if you could only realize how my own soul 
became imbued with your thoughts as I began to 
see the characters in the story, and dear little 
mother, I shall not fail in your hopes. We will 
conquer.” 

^^My noble daughter,” said Lady Catharine, as 
she looked up into the sweet face of the one she 
had never called daughter aloud before: ^Thank 
God my efforts have not been in vain. We must 
go back to the house and tell the girls who you 
are. Then I must tell Sister Martene what to 
do in our absence. She is so happy in the thought 
that she is to take entire charge of Castelane until 
our return. Did you recognize her in my story? 
She is my companion and the only sister I have 
ever known.” 

^‘But, mother,” said Eilene, whose thoughts were 
still upon her mother ; ^^have you never heard from 
my father?” 

‘^Only once, and that was that he had married 
Margaret Sunder and that they had gone abroad. 
I do not know whether he has ever returned or 
not. I only know his mother accomplished her 
object.” 


24 


Eilene. 


^^How have you become so reconciled, mother?” 

^^How? Eilene, by the thought that I could 
never have been happy, after having found his 
weakness. When with me he was completely under 
my power, although then I did not realize it, for 
it seemed that when with me he could read my 
very thoughts. I could not but believe he loved me 
when we were married. Yet, still, that love must 
not have been strong enough to counterbalance 
his mother’s influence. 

^Terhaps I am wrong in not censuring him 
more, yet, Eilene, the same love is there as at 
first; only changed by hate for his mother. I 
have been almost happy in bringing you up, with 
the thought of power in my mind. I have 
struggled to be a true mother in every sense of 
the word, and now, dearest, I am as happy as God 
sees I should be. 

^^Sometimes I feel I shall prove your right to 
the title as Lady Eilene, but my love for the home 
my father bought his peasant bride; for the dear 
old flag that floats over Castelane and the soldier 
husband — I know no more, prevents me. I feel 
we are happier as we are, American citizens, rather 
than English subjects. I think we shall travel 
awhile in Europe, and when we return to New 
York you shall enter society with Adella under 
the care of Mrs. Van Eivan.” 

^^But, mother,” exclaimed Eilene, ^Ve must be 
together.” 

‘‘Yes, you shall come to me whenever you wish, 
and especially to spend your summers, but re- 
member you are to take my place and accomplish 
that which I would have you. To you, the first 


Eilene. 


25 


year, Eilene, the world will be a mystery in spite 
of your broad-reading. Yon will find yon are a 
woman in knowledge where others at yonr age 
are almost children. This is why I wish to be 
with yon while yon are accnstoming yonrself to 
these changes. Winifred, will, I think her mother 
has said, take the same trip that we do, while 
Mnriel will siny for a longer time. Mrs. Van 
Eivan has not completed her plans in regard to 
Adella.^^ 


26 


Eilene. 


CHAPTEK III. 

Castelan'e never had looked so beautiful to 
Eilene as on the morning she was to leave it for 
the first time. It had been her home, and as she 
looked out upon the great green wilderness before 
her she thought of the changes she had seen from 
that same window. The green sward covered with 
milky whiteness; the trees hanging low with icy 
crystals, glimmering like diamonds in the winter 
moonlight, and it was winter. The snows melted 
away and the gentle pat of the rain on the fresh 
green leaves or the moaning and sighing of the 
storm demons as they ran rampant, rumbling their 
lightening trumpets through the heavy boughs in 
search of some lost spirit of the forest, and — 
spring broke forth. Then summer, and after the 
autumn trees changed their dried brown dresses 
to life-giving reds, fringed with refreshing greens, 
and the rustle and skipping and fiurrying leaves 
chased each other down, and after one another; 
over and among themselves; across the long ter- 
races and into the hollow below; and winter had 
come. Yet to her it all seemed summer; it had 
been so bright and happy. These changes she had 
watched from childhood. Each year had drawn 
from her life these developments that the advanc- 
ing years had brought on and now she was to leave 
it all. Never again would it be her settled home, 


Eilene. 27 

and never again could she feel the innovations and 
reverberations of nature as she had felt here. 
Hardly wishing even to glance into the future — 
it all seemed sad — she turned away. 

As Eilene met the girls in the hall, she noticed 
the happy anticipation on each face. The rosy 
hue upon each upturned bud toward the morning 
of their first opening, could not have been deeper 
upon the roses than upon the faces of the Castelane 
girls. They were entering the sunlight or gloom 
of the outer world, which ever might be revealed 
to them. 

A happy party the girls formed, as they set 
forth from the home of their girlhood days. Like 
some untried experiment they were being launched 
into the great sea of humanity. 

As the carriage passed down Main street at 
Old Castle, more excitement existed in the little 
village than it had known for years. 

A few unsatisfied stragglers wended their way 
along toward the station, and word went to their 
homes that they saw four of the most beautiful 
women they had ever seen driving with the mis- 
tress of Castelane. 

To say the village of Old Castle was a surprise 
to the girls would not be true, for country village 
life had become a part of themselves, from con- 
stant association with authors of rustic life. They 
saw in the village lad the same traits Irving had 
shown them in his word pictures. Hot one feature 
did they fail to recognize, and they delighted in 
finding the things they knew — but never before 
from sight. 

When they entered the coach, the passengers, 


28 


Eilene. 


a great part of whom were young college boys re- 
turning from school, noticed the young women 
so different from the other ladies in the coach. 

As Eilene glanced around the smooth faced in- 
dividuals, scattered through the car, she was not 
in the least surprised over the fact that their weak- 
nesses were displayed in their faces. A certain 
sameness was manifested in the toilet of each man. 
They evidently paid great attention to their ap- 
parel, yet the form of originality was lacking. 
Every ‘Tellow” imagined the same light trousers, 
the same straw sailor and soft tie was as becom- 
ing to him as his ^Trat’^ brother. The all around 
man was not there, the specialty was evident; the 
knowledge of anything but college was lacking. 

The Castelane girls had very little to say. All 
were in a deep study, comparing the real with the 
ideal; criticising authors they knew, as to their 
power of portraying humanities upon manuscript. 
Catharine was studying the girls, like a mother, 
watching her new born babe. Each face she looked 
into; noticing the changes, the effects of the new 
things upon it. The girls were delighted, not 
in seeing new objects but in witnessing the real 
products of those pictures which they had al- 
ready formed within themselves. 

As they neared New York, a strange wild sen- 
sation took place in each girl’s heart as she real- 
ized that for the first time in eighteen years she 
was to behold that father who had sacrificed his 
own feelings for that of his child; that she was 
to meet brothers she had never seen or sisters she 
had not known in their long separation. Then 
again, the dear mother with whom she had spent 


Eilene. 


29 

so many happy hours when she had come 
to Castelane, and from whom she had received 
almost daily messages. To all but Eilene did 
these messages come. She was not to meet any 
loving father or affectionate brothers and sisters. 
She had the whole world with her, her mother. 

When the station was reached they were hur- 
ried and lost sight of in the crowd. But like the 
general appearance at a great depot, there were 
tender greetings and sudden -bursts of latent affec- 
tions. Those who have kept their feelings pent 
up for years at the partings or meetings with 
loved ones, are taken unawares and the true hearts 
come forth and are known as perhaps never before. 

:i( ^ »i« 

A year passed, the Castelane girls had been 
abroad and had returned. Their influence was 
being felt; by some thoroughly understood; by 
some mistaken entirely. 

Two New York men were seated in the Man- 
hattan Club one day, when, after having run out 
of topics to discuss, one remarked : ^^Harold, what 
do you think of this new woman movement that 
is calling forth such comment these days?’^ 

^^Well, as yet, I fail to see the substantialness 
of it. There are a few who seem to have the right 
idea of it, yet those few are so scarce that I fail 
to see its future success.’^ 

^‘By the way, Harold, have you ever met Miss 
Eccleshire, Miss Nevins, or Miss Van Eivan? 
They are all interested personally in these reform 
movements.’^ 

^‘Yes. I know Miss Nevins and Miss Van 
Rivan.’^ 


30 


Eilene. 


^^Well, what can you say against them?’^ 

'^Nothing,” said the man addressed as Harold. 
^^The fact is they do not seem to have the same 
ideas in regard to these things that so many other 
women have. No, I should say they are more 
advanced in the work, that is, they know enough 
about it, not to make themselves conspicuous hj 
. their actions.” 

‘^Yet I do not think men need worry over these 
new movements, for it will not last long with any 
of them.” 

But little did either man as yet know the power 
that the reforms would have in their own lives; 
little did they know that already were the Fates 
spinning their own lives to suit the times. 

4c He ^ ^ 4c 

Eilene Eccleshire in her travels had compared 
the places she had visited with her own little realm 
of Castelane and had found the former lacking. 
She had not seen the steady happiness and con- 
tent of Castelane, but the ever-struggling mass 
of humanity about her, with unequal rights. She 
saw the ^^ypocrite,” the monarch of them all. 
The world called him a shrewd business man, or 
a crafty workman, but he was merely an ^^actor.” 
He had the one art which all humanity possesses 
to a certain extent, that of concealing its feelings 
from the public eye by contradicting them with 
actions. Not wishing our own feelings known, 
the opposite side of our true character is on the 
portrait the world sees of us — thus a strong char- 
acter, one who can conceal the secret of his am- 
bitions from the penetrating eyes of the world. 
The man who has lost a fortune makes a greater 


Eilene. 


31 


show of wealth for a time, as never before, while 
searching for ^^friends.” A man with money sim- 
ply lets the world see he is in comfortable circum- 
stances in order to keep away “friends.” And yet 
the two friends are of the same class ; not that kind 
who are true for the man himself, in spite of his 
strength or weakness. All these things had al- 
ready been seen by the piercing eye of Eilene, and 
as she recalled the equality expressed at Castelane, 
the social eqnalness of things, she was satisfied. 
Yet she was not disappointed with the world, for 
thus she expected to find it. The beautiful char- 
acters she did not fail to recognize, for they shone 
out from the blackness around them by their own 
light as the evening star above the horizon of the 
clouded sun. 


32 


Eilene. 


CHAPTEE IV. 

Eilene had been presented to New York society 
in company with Adella Van Eivan, but the 
glamour of the first glimpse had worn off for her 
and already she began to long for less formal affairs 
than those in which she had participated. To her 
the entrance into society seemed like entering 
chains, her hitherto free young life seemed 
shackled. Already she longed to be free, to go 
where she pleased, to do as she pleased. 

‘Tt is so good of you to come in,^^ said Eilene, 
as Adella entered her room for one of the delight- 
ful talks the two had learned to indulge in while 
at Castelane. 

^‘Are you glad ?” Adella asked with a smile. 
have come because I have something to tell you. 
Oh, Eilene, you should have been at Mrs. Vagen’s 
reception. Lord Mancaster was there. You know 
everyone is wondering why he and his mother 
are spending their winter in New York. Well, 
his mother has invited us to spend next summer 
at her home in England. WonT it be splendid?’’ 

^^No,” said Eilene, ^^not particularly so. I can- 
not see, Adella, what you can admire so in Eng- 
lish royalty. Now, honestly, if that man did 
not have a title attached to his name, would 
you be so anxious to visit his house?” 

‘T/ell, Eilene, you know I am ambitious; you 


Hilene. 33 

know I must have something to work toward, and 
to what can I put my mind? Frankly, he is a 
man no better in my estimation, than the average 
young man of New York; but dear, admit that 
in the matter of personal merit he is thus equal. 
In addition he is a lord with an English title, 
which makes the balance in his favor. Then 
why should you be prejudiced, just because he 
is a Briton? I am very certain I will not be 
married for my money unless I receive something 
in return ; besides,^^ she added with a slight blush, 
believe I like him for himself, just a little.” 
see you are in too frivolous a mood to talk 
as you really believe,” said Eilene, ^‘so you had 
better go to bed. Kun away to your room now, 
and dream of your English knight and marble 
castles.” 

When Adella was gone, Eilene thought long 
into the night. Many dreams came before her 
of the past, her mother, and the future. She felt 
like casting all thoughts of society aside and 
before now would have put her impulses into 
effect, but for the one thought of her 
mother. When she considered that ruined life, 
her veins throbbed and her pride bore her up 
under the distasteful task she had undertaken. 
Yet in own mind she had resolved she would con- 
quer herself. She had begun to realize that it 
was no easy matter to work against her own 
inclinations, but the hope of humbling those who 
had broken her mother’s heart urged her on. 

41 :ic H: * * * 

Most of the guests had arrived at Mrs. Van 
Bivan’s when Eilene entered and with one glance 


34 


Eilene. 


she surveyed the guests assembled at the informal 
dinner. Adella presented Lord Mancaster and 
as Eilene stood talking to him, her eyes wan- 
dered toward the handsome stranger on the op- 
posite side of the room. He was a tall, well 
built man of noble proportions; his black eyes 
were directed toward her, but with a slight start, 
which she alone noticed, he turned again to the 
lady at his side. She knew all the others in the 
room and could not think who Mrs. Van Eivan’s 
strange guest was, unless — yes, it must be young 
Stockton, the politician of whom she had heard 
so often, but as yet had not met. 

'^Ah! here comes Miss Nevins and Mr. Stock- 
ton,^^ said Lord Mancaster as he looked past 
Eilene. She turned just in time to be presented 
to him by Muriel, and they at once entered into 
conversation. His expression was frank, without 
being forward; his manner polite and void of 
self-consciousness. 

‘^Miss Eccleshire, have we ever met before?” 
he inquired. 

Eilene smiled and answered: ^^No, Mr. Stock- 
ton, I think not.” 

^^The reason I asked was because when I first 
saw you enter the room, your face struck me as 
that of an old acquaintance. I doubt if I ever 
saw you before, but why your face should seem 
BO familiar, I do not know.*” 

'Terhaps,” Eilene suggested, laughingly, “if 
you believe in reincarnation, we have met in the 
world before this.” 

“I wish I could claim such an old acquaint-, 
ance,” said Stockton, 


Eilene. 


35 


“Why?” asked Eilene, not seeming to have 
noticed the unconventionality of the question. 

^^So we would not have to go through the for^ 
mality of new acquaintanceship before we could be 
friends.” 

^^Do you, like myself, dislike the formalities of 
society?” inquired Eilene. 

‘‘Yes; particularly so when I meet one whom 
I seem to have known before,” he said. 

“To prove to me you have known me before 
tell me something of myself, and then I will be- 
lieve your impression to be correct ; for remember, 
I have not the faintest recollection of ever hav- 
ing seen you until now.” 

“You are,” began Stockton, “different from 
these people around us. You seem to participate 
in these gayeties just to gratify society. You 
are, I am sure, interested in something beyond 
mere society. I am positive that it is not your 
ambition to shine in the social world. Now, tell 
me, how I am getting along and if I am on the 
right road?” continued Stockton. 

“Yes, but let me ask you before you corrtinue, 
have you ever talked with any one about me?” 

“No.” 

“Then you are to be complimented on your 
good guessing.” 

“Did I not tell you,” he quietly answered, “that 
I have known you before? But I will go on. 
You lead a double life — a sort of Jekyl and 
Hyde existence. Not good and bad, but both 
lives good in different ways. You are to the 
world in general a society woman; to your own 


36 


Eilene. 


little world a woman of a different type. Miss 
Eccleshire, I should like to know you in the latter 
sphere.” 

As Eilene looked up at him she fancied she 
could point out the two lives which he led, but 
she did not let him know her thoughts, and an- 
swered him as he hoped she would, for she had 
already found in this man a taste for life other 
than that of fashionable society. 

'‘Then if I am really to enter it, will you not 
tell me what and where this universe is, in which 
your happiest moments are spent?” said Stock- 
ton. 

“On the Bowery,” she answered, with a mis- 
chievous glance, and, noticing his perplexed look, 
quickly explained that it was in the tenement 
district among the poor. 

“And, really, to enter it you must go with me 
some day; then you may judge for yourself 
whether my little world is a recompense for this 
or not.” 

When he took Eilene’s hand to bid her good 
night, he looked down in her eyes and said: “I 
will enter this world with you. Miss Eccleshire.” 

* * * HS H« ♦ * 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Van Eivan to Eilene, when 
the guests had departed, “you selected him from 
among all the rest as I supposed you would.” 

“Do you mean Mr. Stockton? Why did you 
expect it?” inquired Eilene. 

“Because he is so different from other men, 
and you, my dear, are so different from other 
women. In fact, you are much alike, only I 
imagine you two would grow antagonistic to each 


Eilenc. 37 

other. Now you and Adella are bo different. 
She amuses a man, flatters him, encourages him 
and lets him have his own way until she has him 
in chains, and then like a trainer, turns and 
manages him to suit her whims. You, on the 
other hand, start out disputing, arguing with, 
angering and daring until you have him utterly 
perplexed, yet after a long struggle of will power, 
he will conquer and be complete master.^^ 

The girls laughed at this bit of character de- 
scription, then Mrs. Van Eivan changed the sub- 
ject. 

^^Eilene, I wanted to ask you about your new 
home. Do you intend to enter it quietly and with- 
out a formal reception?” 

‘^Yes; that is what I think best,” Eilene an- 
swered. am going over to-morrow to become 
acquainted with the servants, and will spend the 
remainder of the month there; then I shall go 
to Castelane to be with Mother Catharine for a 
while. When I return, I shall want your assist- 
ance in opening my new house. Muriel is to 
spend the winter with me, but I shall need both 
you and Adella to launch me, for you know I 
cannot form a love for society.” 

^^But, my dear girl,” said Mrs. Van Eivan, 
'^you will soon overcome that feeling and learn 
that since you cannot reform society, you will 
have to accept it as it is and hide your antipathy 
for it. Yes, I predict that before the winter is 
over we shall find Eilene Eccleshire heralded as 
a charming hostess to New York society people, 
perhaps a leader, and that moreover, she will 
learn to love what she now dislikes.” 


38 


Eilene. 


CHAPTER V. 

Harold Stockton" and Eilene had now be- 
come more than mere social acquaintances and 
that which served to draw them nearer was Eilene’s 
mention of her happiest days, those which were 
spent among the tenements. Harold had be- 
come interested in the poor people with whom 
Eilene worked and this morning late in the fall, 
he was to accompany her on one of her visits. 
Stockton had never had occasion to go into this 
part of the city but once and that was when ho 
was first entering politics and was sent over to 
make a speech to the members of the party of 
which he wished to be sure. Then his heart 
went out to the poor men whose only association 
with their wealthier brothers was when their votes 
were cast in the latter’s favor. But like many 
other business men he had never given them an- 
other thought until Eilene told him of her work. 
Before no woman had ever led him to have 
thoughts of others than their own associates. 
But a new type of womanhood he had now met; 
one to whom mention of herself seemed to cause 
no commotion of feeling, but rather served as a 
pivot to turn the conversation upon others. Be- 
fore he had been fascinated by women of physi- 
cal charm, but in Eilene, though more beautiful 


39 


Eilene. 

than any woman he knew, the womanliness of 
character turned his thoughts from the physical 
woman to the woman within. 

One afternoon while calling she had shown him 
some pictures of a vacation home near New York 
City which she maintained for the working girls. 
With wonder he saw this noble woman’s girlish 
delight when she told him she enjoyed a week 
with her girls in the summer more than a month 
in New York. 

She said: “It could not but make any human 
heart rejoice to see the happiness at Elcourt dur- 
ing the summer months. When I feel discour- 
aged or down-hearted, a trip there is all I need 
to buoy me up and urge me on.” 

Previous to starting, Eilene had told Harold 
to be prepared to work if he wished to go with 
her, and this morning found him presenting him- 
self to her in his golf suit, while she herself 
was attired in a neat blue pedestrian dress, with 
short skirt and jacket. A blue walking hat set 
off with a white quill, brought out her charms more 
than ever, so Harold Stockton thought. 

They entered the carriage with several baskets 
and drove through miles of the center of the city, 
at last arriving at their destination. Upon 
alighting Eilene told Harold to follow her while 
she asked a policeman on the corner to accom- 
pany them. He knew her, as she had required his 
services before. 

“Good morning,” he said, “I was just wonder- 
ing when you would come. Where to this morn- 
ing ?” 

“Down to my little sick girl, please,” said 


40 


Eilene. 


Eilene, and she and Harold followed him into 
a room over the front of which blazed in large 
letters ^^Great Eeproduction of the Latest Mur- 
der. Admission, 10 cents.” 

Harold wondered what his club friends would 
think if they should see him enter this dime mu- 
seum. Yet his thought soon left him as he car- 
ried Eilene’s basket down the narrow stairs at 
the back of the room, into the cellar below. Lit- 
tle had his cultured eye ever been allowed to 
touch upon such a scene as he now beheld. 

The room was dark save a little broken oil 
lamp that sent out a faint light into one part of 
the room. In one®corner lay a pile of boys’ coats 
half finished. Upon it lay a little girl in a flannel 
dress, which seemed out of keeping with the sur- 
roundings. The little pale face was almost hid- 
den by the tangled curls that hung over it, yet 
not too much but that the sweet smile upon the 
face could be seen, as the eyes recognized Eilene, 
“Oh, dear lady, you have come,” exclaimed the 
child springing up and stretching out her little 
thin hands. “I was afraid I’d never get to see 
you again. They took mother away and buried 
her this morning and I am alone,” and the little 
head bowed down on the pile of clothes in tears. 

Eilene looked around for a seat and Harold 
brought forth an old box from a corner in the 
room and she sat upon it, holding the child in 
her arms. In this manner did Harold Stockton 
first behold the true woman whom he had first 
seen in Mrs. Van Ki van’s drawing room as the 
reigning belle of the season. The door was pushed 
open and a rough looking fellow of about six- 


1 



In this manner did Harold first behold the true woman 
in her.— Chap. V. 



Eilene. 


41 


teen, came in with a loaf of bread in his hand. 
He opened his lips to speak, when he noticed by 
the dim light the forms of visitors, and he stopped. 
Eilene laid down the child and came forward. She 
placed her hand upon his shoulder. ‘^Bob,^’ she 
said in her sweetest tones, ^Von’t you let me take 
Mta home with me, until she gets well? You 
know you can get along much better for a few 
weeks without her. It must be pretty hard on 
you, poor fellow, to work here since your mother 
has gone, but you keep on a while longer and 
then if you will come, I will take you out of 
this.’^ 

Bob hung his head to hide the tear in his eye 
and said: 

^‘Yer can take Nit a, lady. She^s not fit fer a 
place like this, but don’t worry about me. I reck- 
on I ken get along.” 

^^All right. Bob, I am going to leave these 
things for you, and I’ll call next week for the 
basket and you be sure to have it here for me. 
I shall bring Nita to see you and we can talk 
more then.” 

Eilene arose and asked Bob to carry his sister 
to the carriage, which he did, all the while strug- 
gling to keep from showing the pain in his own 
heart. As he reached the sidewalk he shouted 
proudly to one of his street chums, who was stand- 
ing near, to let him know who his sister Nita was 
going away with in the big carriage. Again 
shaking hands with Bob, Harold, at Eilene’s re- 
quest handed the remaining basket to the big 
policeman telling him to do with it what he would, 


42 Eilene. 

They then entered the carriage and started home- 
ward. 

^^Are you going to take the little one home with 
you, Miss Eccleshire 

^^No/^ said Eilene. ‘^We shall stop at a Miss 
SaiFs, who lives a short way from here. I shall 
take Mta to her as a boarder. She will be delighted 
to have a little child around. I obtained a place 
for her brother in one of the shops about a year 
ago, and since then they have never tired of show- 
ing their gratitude.^^ 

“Do you really like this work, Miss Eccleshire 
asked Harold, although he knew full well what 
her answer would be. 

“Like said Eilene. “Mr. Stockton, if you 
only knew how my heart goes out for these very 
people in whose midst we have been this morning ; 
if you only knew how I pity even the worst, then 
you would not ask me such a question. I see in 
them a steady hunger for money. The world 
might say I could give money to these poor people 
whom I help and yet what would it avail? Most 
of them brought up to know nothing but their 
present surroundings, look upon money as a thing 
to bestow joy with, in eating or sight-seeing. To 
them a visit to the musuem is the one happy day 
in a life time; to have a good dinner, a step to- 
ward Heaven. They look upon money as some- 
thing to go as fast as it is grasped, therefore it 
must be a replenishing of minds rather than pock- 
ets, to help them.” 

As Harold -Stockton listened to the woman be- 
fore him and saw the little curly head resting 
against her arm, he thought he could already see 


Eilene. 43 

the motherly intelligence developing in her na- 
ture. 

'‘Miss Eccleshire/’ said Harold, "do you think 
I could help Bob in any way ? I want to do some- 
thing, but like you, I think that these people de- 
mand personal care — and there I doubt my 
ability.” 

"Yes,” said Eilene, "I think you are just the 
person to help Bob, and I believe the boy would 
prove deserving of anything you could do for 
him.” 

"Very well,” said Harold. "May I come with 
you on your next visit to Bob, and in the meantime 
I will think the matter over.” 

"Certainly. I shall be only too glad to have 
you accompany me,” and as she looked upon the 
man across from her in the carriage, she saw a 
tender nature back of the politician's grave face. 
"If,” she mused, "there is in this man who is inter- 
ested in politics, a thought of these poor people, 
then there might be a possible chance for the re- 
demption of some part of the city,” and imme- 
diately she felt more kindly toward him than ever 
before. 

He believed it to be idle curiosity that led him 
to come with her to-day ; curious to see if she would 
or could do the work of which she had told him; 
curious, also, to see if a wealthy woman of New 
York society circles could enter the slums without 
disgust displayed upon her face. 

The carriage now stopped in front of a building 
near the river and Eilene alighted and went up 
the steps. A neatly dressed woman came to the 
door and Eilene entered. In the meantime Harold 


44 


Eilene. 


saw a tall well built man coming toward the place 
and he at once surmised him to be the man for 
whom Eilene had obtained the position. For a 
moment the man looked surprised at seeing the 
carriage at the door, then it dawned upon him 
as to who the occupant might be and he walked 
toward it, but upon seeing Harold Stockton, with 
a start he stepped back suddenly, when Harold 
spoke. suppose we are in front of your house, 
and you are Mr. Sail.’^ 

Upon his assent as to being the same, Harold 
continued: '^Miss Eccleshire is in the house with 
your sister. By the way, how long have you lived 
here ?” Harold spoke in the most kindly tone and 
was very much surprised at the deep commanding 
voice and well spoken words of the man before him 
when he answered. 

‘^1 have lived in this house for almost two years 
now, but Miss Eccleshire found us down at the 
Bowery before we came here. Ah! a noble heart 
has that woman, God bless her,^’ said John Sail. 

Just then the door opened and Eilene with 
John’s sister came out. Eilene, with that moth- 
erly manner in which she approached all her poor 
friends, stepped up and put her hand on John’s 
shoulder. 

^^John,” she said, have brought a little girl 
to you. See, she is in the carriage,” and he with 
a glance inside and a look at Eilene which no 
words could express, raised her hand to his lips. 
The scene was too bitterly sweet for them to 
lengthen and Harold lifted Hita out and placing 
her in John’s arms, he and Eilene drove toward 
home. 


Eilene. 45 

For awhile all was silent, for Eilene was joyful 
over the happiness she had brought into the Sail 
home, while Harold sat thinking of the grateful 
heart in John^s bosom. Never before had he be- 
held such a look of pure joy on a man’s face as 
when he placed Nita in John’s arms. 

'^Miss Eccleshire,” he said at last, “I have be- 
held more simple joy and keen sorrow than ever 
before. You have unknowingly done more good 
for me than these poor people to whom you have 
so tenderly ministered. Won’t you let me take 
your hand in devoted friendship ?” and Eilene held 
her hand across to him, and it lay clasped in his 
warm grasp for a second, when the carriage 
stopped in front of her home. 

Upon entering the library, Eilene sat down to 
look over the morning mail, and after glancing 
over numerous letters, some asking for help, others 
for her interest in some charity work, and others 
from devoted fashionable friends, she rang for her 
secretary. 

‘^Miss Johnson,” said Eilene, ^Vhat are my en- 
gagements for to-day?” 

The woman presented her with a list, including 
the calls to be made. Eilene glanced over it and 
asked if nothing could be cut out, but Johnson de- 
clares she has already laid aside two important en- 
gagements and cannot do more. 

“Then,” said Eilene, “please order the brough- 
am for three o’clock.” Eilene settles herself to 
one of her most delightful tasks, that of writing 
to her mother at Castelane. 

The letter which she finished read as follows ; 


46 


Eilene. 


Lady Catharine Eccleshire: 

‘‘Dearest Mother : Since my last letter I have 
been very busy. Mrs. Van Eivan gave a large 
dinner party on Monday night at which I met 
Adella^s betrothed, the Duke of Mancaster. He 
is a thorough Englishman; very devoted to all 
Eiiglish customs, which you know Adella always 
admired so much herself. He certainly maintains 
the pride of his house and it is probably Adella’s 
dignified manner that charms him, although per- 
haps her wealth is a great factor in the betrothal. 
But with all that his keen sense of family pride 
would not allow him to enter upon a marriage, no 
matter how great the wealth, that would not give 
him a mistress for Harlheim Castle that could 
cope with its former ladies, who have ranked with 
the first of England’s wearers of the strawberry 
leaves. 

“The papers over the country are commenting 
upon the duke’s marriage with wealth, but whom, 
mother, could Adella marry that would equal her 
in wealth, and if she sees, as I believe she does, 
the good she can do among her husband’s people, 
why should she care for the world’s talk? Adella 
is^devoted to her young lover and possesses a pow- 
erful influence over him, of which he is uncon- 
scious. But enough of Adella, dear mother, while 
I tell you of your own little girl who is so dear 
to you, and who wants you to come to New York 
as soon as the weather gets cooler. I am going 
next week to see my girls at Elcourt and the young 
politician, of whom I spoke in my last letter, wishes 
to go with me. He is a fine looking man and very 
popular at present, among the wealthy families. 


Eilene. 47 

I think his aim is to run for a city oflSce at the next 
election, and of course this makes him much sought 
after at present. But I can see his whole success 
in the society world depends upon the coming cam- 
paign, since he has no wealth to speak of. He is 
a man whom I have been able to see in two lights, 
although as yet I do not clearly understand him. 
In society, he is a clever man of the world, pol- 
ished and attentive to all women at all times. Yet 
to me lately he has seemed off his guard once or 
twice, and has been light-hearted and filled with 
enthusiasm of a different sort. 

‘^This morning he accompanied me to the tene- 
ment district and most of the time seemed silent, 
only once expressing a desire to help me in the 
work. Yet, mother, I think he is weak. This 
morning while under the influence of the work, it 
seemed as though he really desired to do such work 
as we were doing, but how can I continue to expect 
him, a man, to be interested in it very long ? Does 
it not seem strange to you that he should ask me 
to be his friend, upon such short acquaintance? 
Every one looks upon him as a very clever and 
honorable man. 

^^This morning I will return to Fulton street, 
where John Sail has asked me to attend one of 
their union labor meetings. Of course, even J ohn, 
and his sister do not as yet know who I really 
am, and it will be impossible for any of their 
friends to recognize me. I look upon it as a very 
great experience, for, mother, these people do have 
true, noble hearts, beneath their ragged clothes. 
I often wonder what my society friends would say, 
did they but know what keen delight I feel in 


48 


Eilene. 


these close communions with commoners. Of 
course, many of them take real interest in chari- 
ties at times, but, mother, I see more happiness 
in the slums, than in the intercourse with New 
York’s four hundred. Many good deeds are done 
by multi-millionaires, many a ’name brought into 
eminence by some gift to the poor and they de- 
light to know that with their fortunes they are 
doing good. I say, mother, ^God bless them, these 
noble men and women,’ but, ah! they do not feel 
the inspiration of personal contact with these peo- 
ple; they do not see the looks of gratitude in the 
faded eyes of the poverty stricken. Why? Be- 
cause their servants perform their charity work. 

^^Mother, I am so glad all of your girls, Adella, 
Winifred and Muriel, belong to the intellectual 
strata of New York; but could they be otherwise 
after your training? It certainly must be with 
great interest, dear, that you watch your girls in 
these years of their lives and they certainly bless 
you for your noble work. 

^‘Now, dear mother Catharine, I must bring my 
long letter to a close as I am going to write to 
Muriel to make my house her home this winter. 
So with love to all my dear little sisters of Castel- 
ane, I am your devoted daugter, 

^^Eilene Eccleshire.” 

In the afternoon Eilene was again a woman of 
the world. Dressed in an elegant toilet she drove 
in her splendid turnout only a few squares away 
from her own luxurious home on Fifth avenue, 
to the home of Mrs. Stoar, to attend a musicale 
at which Calve was the attraction. Here she 


Eilenc. 49 

mingled with the same people she had met for 
the past two years; heard the same conversation 
that had long ago become monotonous; and this 
was what the world called society. Mrs. Stoar 
had evidently striven for originalities for the af- 
ternoon, but with all her care one could easily be- 
lieve there was nothing new under the sun. 

In the evening Eilene saw a part of the world 
that was new to her, in fact would have been a 
novelty to most people in Mrs. Stoar’s music room, 
but Eilene was the only one permitted to enter it. 
Dressed in a dark cloth dress, she started forth in 
a hired carriage to John Sail’s home. From there 
she and John walked to the hall in the fifth 
story of a broken down old building, where the 
^^organized unions of — district,” were to meet. 
Eilene caused no uncalled for comment, as her 
plain costume led them to think of her only as a 
possible new member. The room was furnished 
with chairs and in two of these in the back part 
of the room she and John seated themselves. 


50 


Eilene. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Within a block of Fifth avenue, in his luxu- 
rious bachelor apartments sat Harold Stockton. 
Leaning back in his large arm chair and taking 
his meerschaum from his mouth he glanced at 
the book before him, then laid it down again, to 
read between the lines in silence. The time was 
soon before him, in which his political friends 
were to place his name before the convention for 
nomination of New York’s future mayor, in 
which campaign he must please moneyed Tam- 
many and yet not offend the commoners. He must 
confront politely the ring-leading politicians of the 
city, who knowing they could not obtain the office, 
saw in him a rising young man upon whom no slan- 
der could be cast; he must appear as one whom 
the wealthy would look upon as their tool to work 
with, while they were content in being the power 
behind the throne. He knew he must use great 
cleverness to allow these people to put him in 
office while still maintaining the belief that he 
was one whom they could rule. 

He realized that the man who would in all prob- 
ability be his opponent was a man of greater 
political experience, and the fight would be a bitter 
one. He already saw the aristocrats on his side; 
men who would nominate him, but the others he 


Eilene. 


51 


must win. He saw more in the latter now than 
at any previous time, and determined to do good 
by them if he had the opportunity. His atten- 
tions to Eilene Eccleshire, he now saw, would aid 
him among those poor people, to whom she was 
a friend, and they would urge his election if 
they once thought he, as a moneyed man, was 
their benefactor. The husband of Eilene Eccle- 
shire would come in for several millions and be- 
sides he thought, ^^She possesses a most kindly re- 
gard for me.^^ 

Yet a spark of manhood arose in him and he 
censured himself for thinking of obtaining suc- 
cess through a woman. 

he said to himself. ‘^When the election 
is over, and if I am successful, as the mayor of 
this city, I shall ask Eilene Eccleshire to be my 
wife.’^ Arising he paced back and forth across 
the room. do not love her,” he thought, ^That 
is, that passion has not existed for one moment, 
which I have felt for other women. Yet in her 
I see reproduced in feminine form my own 
ideals. She could be a helpmeet to me indeed; 
she is a woman I would be proud to give my name, 
but — ^then, I don’t love her.” 

^^At least,” he thought, ^T will accompany Miss 
Eccleshire on her visits into the tenement district. 
I will know the city better for having gone and 
my presence with her must soon be noted and 
commented upon by those people and — well, it 
will do me no harm. I will make her my friend 
and that will work wonders among them. I will 
go out among them more; visit their labor meet- 
ings and make friends with as many as possible.” 


52 


Eilene. 


With such feelings he started for Elcourt; with 
the thought of becoming better acquainted be- 
cause he admired her more than any woman he 
had ever met, because she could assist him with the 
poor faction of the metropolis. 

In the meantime Eilene, worked into enthusiasm 
over the laboring class, had a new idea which she 
was considering for their benefit and it was to have 
more time for thought upon it, that she determined 
to spend a week at Elcourt. 

She had invited Stockton to Elcourt for the 
purpose of showing him the plan upon which it 
was conducted, having in her mind to get him 
interested in a similar plan for young working 
men. It had been the rule at Elcourt for the last 
year to grant permission to the friends of the 
girls to spend a day with them during their vaca- 
tion, and at these times Eilene had noticed the 
enthusiasm with which the young men entered 
upon the day’s amusements. Several institu- 
tions had been established for the poor and aged 
around New York, and it was only within the 
last few years a vacation home for tired working 
girls had been put in operation. But as yet no 
place for the young men who spent so many 
hours of the week behind the counter, had come 
into existence. 

Elcourt had been planned entirely by Eilene 
and almost faultless it proved to be, on account 
of her previous experience at Castelane. Sit- 
uated on the bank of the Hudson was the cot- 
tage, or inn, as it might be called. It consisted 
of two hundred rooms, furnished inexpensively. 
The girls themselves had left many a pretty 


Eilene. 


53 


memento of their summer outing at the inn, in 
the way of prints of famous pictures, busts of 
noted persons or cheap editions of well-known 
authors. All this made Elcourt more precious 
to its guests year after year. No one could speak 
too eloquently in praise of its benefactress. 
Happy were the girls who were at the place 
when Eilene spent a week with them. Then 
she became one of them, for, as she said, what 
would help the poor woman must needs benefit 
the rich, so she played tennis, rowed down the 
Hudson, was out on the golf links, and like 
her sister-workers, forgot there was a New York 
City in existence. 

So the days had rolled by and Harold 
Stockton found himself on his way to Elcourt. 

Eilene Eccleshire had seemed to him a woman 
without any girlhood, for though she certainly 
looked young, there was a womanly perfection 
about her which is not generally seen in one so 
young in years. 

A surprise awaited him which he did not ex- 
pect as he drove up the Elcourt drive late on 
that afternoon. He saw about twenty young 
women watching a vigorous game of basket ball 
and among them a tall, rosy cheeked maiden who 
upon seeing him, stepped out of the game and 
advanced toward him. She held out her white 
hand and not until then did he recognize the 
stately Miss Eccleshire in the merry school girl 
who stood before him. It seemed almost impos- 
sible that the two were the same. 

'H am so glad you have come,” said Eilene. 
''Welcome to Elcourt. Get out of the carriage 


54 


Eilene. 

and we will walk to the house, for I see we will 
just have time to dress for dinner, and then you 
must meet some of my girls/^ 

^‘Some of your girls F’"’ said Harold. ^^Do you 
know it seems very odd to hear a rosy-faced 
maiden say she wants me to meet some of her 
girls? It won’t offend you. Miss Eccleshire, will 
it, if I say I thought you looked the youngest of 
that gay crowd to me. You seem entirely dif- 
ferent from the Hew York woman I have known.” 

'^Oh, no, it won’t offend me, and to make your 
stay more pleasant, I will say Elcourt means the 
opposite of formality. You are to do just as you 
please, just so you do not make anyone think of 
work, for this is the abode of rest,” said Eilene, 
^^To-morrow I want you to meet some of the young 
gentlemen clerks who are coming out from the 
city to visit us, and then I want some suggestions 
from you in regard to them.” 

^^It seems to me you are very thoughtful for 
the young men. Have you a brother whom you 
admire very much, who causes such interest?” 
said Harold. 

^^Oh, no,” said Eilene. am an only child 
and perhaps my interest in them comes from the 
fact that I never saw a man, not even a relative, 
until after I was twenty.” 

Harold looked up with a mixture of doubt and 
misunderstanding upon his face and questioned, 
‘^Hever saw a man for twenty years? How, how 
could that happen in this locality ?” Then Eilene 
told him something of Castelane, reserving the 
object of the school and the cause of its founding. 

This gave Harold something to think of. It 


Eilene. 55 

perplexed him, and yet after the narrative he 
thought he could see in the extraordinary train- 
ing the exceptional woman as a result. At dinner 
that evening Harold thought he had never seen 
Eilene more beautiful. He had met her at din- 
ners in Hew York, where she, as Miss Eccleshire, 
looked dazzling in her handsome dinner gowns, 
but here was Eilene in a girlish dress of pink 
muslin, paler than the rosy glow beneath her pure 
white skin. Her hair was arranged in graceful 
folds, and several tiny curls escaped upon her 
high forehead. 

In Hew York he always felt Miss Eccleshire to 
be inaccessible, but here the sweet girlish face 
that smiled upon him made him long, yes hope, 
he could become her master. Ho thought of 
her marvelous wealth took possession of him now, 
yet he could not but wish Elcourt was the home 
to which she was accustomed rather than the man- 
sion on Fifth avenue. 

The thought entered his mind as to whether 
her interest in him spoke anything of her feel- 
ings toward him. He knew she had been sought 
by English noblemen who had humbled themselves 
to her; but she was not the woman to yield to 
one who felt or pretended to be beneath her; her 
love must be commanded. 

These feelings he resolved to let pass. What 
should he, a young politician, without any show- 
ing as to success, think of this wealthy Hew York 
woman? But the thought of Eilene, the maiden 
he had met among the Adirondacks, seemed to 
creep slowly and lightly upon him unawares. 

The next morning Eilene began the subject of 


50 


Eilene. 


a new vacation home for young men, and al- 
though Harold would gladly have entered into 
her plans, he felt the coming campaign would de- 
mand all his thoughts. “Miss Eccleshire, do you 
think you can keep a little secret if I let you into 
it?’^ said Harold. 

“Mr. Stockton, if you can honor me by telling 
it to me, I hope I am sincere enough to deserve 
that honor,^^ said Eilene. 

“Well,'’ said Stockton, “I do not wish you to 
think I take no interest in your plans, and yet 
to you I can give no excuse for my seeming in- 
attention to it, unless I tell you of other duties 
that will require my whole time, at the accom- 
plishing of which, if I succeed I may be far better 
able to aid these young men than in my present 
situation." He quietly added: “My friends de- 
sire me to run for the office of mayor at the com- 
ing election." 

“Then," said Eilene, “let me congratulate you 
beforehand, for I know of no man who would be 
better able to direct this city, to look after the 
interests of the people, than you, and I heartily 
commend your friends’ choice." She extended 
her hand which he took, and he looked down into 
the sweet face and — almost forgot, but he recalled 
himself and dropped her hand in silence. 

“Mr. Stockton, you must know more of the 
people I work with, and then you must become 
acquainted with them. They will help you on to 
success, and you in turn can help them." 

Then she told him of the labor meeting which 
she had attended, and how she longed to go again. 
She said, “It was like an interesting story, and I 


Eilene. 57 

can scarcely wait for their next meeting to see 
what turn the characters will take. 

^^John Sail,” Eilene said, “seems to be the best 
educated among them and has quite an influence 
that seems to increase. He is a so-called political 
boss.” 

“Why is Sail above the people around him?” 
He seems to be of a better class,” said Harold. 

“It is a sad little story,” said Eilene slowly. 
“John was a farmer boy; Mary his sister. He 
came to New York to study law in one of the 
many cheap schools. He was thrown into a set 
of young men who had determined to see as much 
of the world as possible. The consequence was, 
John lost all the money his father had saved for 
him to go to school on. Absolutely penniless and 
down-hearted he wrote to his sister Mary, saying 
though he loved them all, he was not fit to re- 
turn, and thereupon begged her not to speak of 
it to her parents. She did not, but took the first 
train for the city, and met John just as he was 
about to leave. She insisted on staying with 
him despite his resistance. John found but little 
success. Still he struggled on. About two years 
ago I found them on the Bowery, where Mary 
was making clothes for a sweat shop.” 

“Mary is a noble little woman,” said Harold 
quietly. 

“Yes,” said Eilene, “noble, and John was weak. 
Why did he not struggle to be a man, whose sister 
she might be proud to be, rather than give up as 
he did?” 

“Possibly,” said Harold, thoughtfully, “he could 


58 


Eilene. 


then see no way in which he conld ever reach the 
height of her ideal.” 

^^But if he loved her, he might have asked her 
assistance, and she would gladly have reached her 
hand down and aided him in the ascent, as she 
did afterward, without his asking,” said Eilene. 

^^He might have been too proud, and would 
rather have reached her side unaided and un- 
awares,” Harold exclaimed. 

^^Do you think, Mr. Stockton, that persons who 
care for each other as John did for his sister, 
should let pride stand in the way of what might 
benefit both ?” 

She arose as she spoke and said, “But we must 
not think of such serious things here at Elcourt. 
We must enter into a life of freedom and rest- 
fulness from all such thoughts.” 

Harold was still seated, and with a smile on 
his face, yet with great meaning in the depths 
of his eyes, held up his hand to her and said gently, 
“Miss Eccleshire, Eilene, will you help me to rise ?” 
And without one word she caught his hand and he 
stood beside her. Just then a bevy of girls came 
up to them, and asked Miss Eccleshire if she 
would show their friends through Elcourt, and 
she and Harold led the way through the inn. 

As they went along, Eilene, in a fervor of ex- 
citement, was happy to know she had been asked 
by this man, whose like she had never before 
met, to help him rise. She was proud of the 
fact, and yet she thought she could see his weak- 
ness, but did not realize the effort it might take 
any man to be strong under her earnest brown 
eyes. She would help him, she resolved to herself, 


Eiiene. 59 

for she saw in her beloved philanthropic work an 
aid should he become mayor; and also she saw 
the aid she could be to him in obtaining that 
office. 

******* 

The latter part of the week passed, and New 
York again saw Eiiene and Harold in its midst, 
prepared for the hardest task of their lives, that 
of placing Harold upon the throne of the metropo- 
lis. 

Upon his return, to the careful eye of Harold 
he beheld the men afar off, who thought they saw 
in him plastic material with which they might 
do the moulding. This, he let them think. 
Closeted with different politicians, he learned 
from each some new idea, to which he was hereto- 
fore inexperienced. Talking only enough to draw 
each enthusiast out, he gained from their ex- 
perience that which they credited him with not 
having. He felt that his whole future depended 
upon this election. To have Eiiene see him fail, 
he felt, would blast his future entirely. To him 
it seemed, were she a man, she could not fail to 
accomplish anything upon which she was deter- 
mined, and he felt the same must now be his 
power. With the thought of strength within him 
and her encouraging smile, he felt he must surely 
succeed. 

No doubt crossed his mind as to his actions when 
he once had the reins of the city in his own 
grasp. He knew his power of guidance and force, 
without the help of wealthy friends. 

Eiiene had made up her mind that Harold 
Stockton should have her support throughout 


60 


Eilene. 


his campaign — and with delicate political tactics 
she managed her part of his future. Through 
her the doors of New York society must open to 
him. This was not in her direct power, for 
though possessed of millions her heart was not 
and had not been set upon society, and therefore 
she had not been admitted to the exclusiveness 
of the four hundred. Now this must be cast aside ; 
her antipathy for social gayeties must be covered 
over and she must enter. 

Though for several years past she had upon 
different occasions mingled with New York’s aris- 
tocracy, she was but now to make her social entree. 
No longer could she continue her placid life, but 
for the sake of one whom she deemed worthy of 
her efforts would she sacrifice her former life. 
Above all she must win to her side the whole of 
Tammany circle, through the gates of society. 


Eilene. 


61 


CHAPTER VII. 

Eilene Eccleshire’s Fifth avenue home was 
crowded; the streets were lined with carriages, 
and still at the door stood the servant calling the 
names of the guests as they arrived. 

The four hundred of New York was attending 
the first ball given by the hostess, who was just 
entering their select circle. Mrs. Van Eivan had 
gained her admittance, for though Eilene’s charity 
work had long been known, still her admittance 
had not been assured until she appeared as maid 
of honor at the Van Eivan-Mancaster wedding, 
which was the most brilliant affair the United 
States had ever seen. It was then the eyes of 
the metropolis turned to look through glasses at 
the beautiful woman who was a comparative 
stranger to most of them. 

Little does the outside world realize that ad- 
mittance into the society element of Americans 
first city is so difficult. Those names the public 
sees in print so often for deeds of philanthropy; 
for wealth; for intellect, are often as far from 
the social faction of New York as the peasant 
from English nobility. Wealth does not count; 
old families lead, but only the recognition of the 
established members can pass the stranger in. 

Thus Mrs. Van Eivan had led Eilene Eccle- 


62 Eilene. 

shire quietly, slowly up the steps into the gates 
of aristocracy. 

To-night Eilene stands beside Mrs. Van Eivan, 
Winifred Gerald and Muriel Nevins, receiving 
the guests, as a queen in her drawing room. Her 
heavy white satin gown, embroidered in jewels, 
well became the stately girl and the tiara of 
Roman gold rested upon her head with a grace 
that betokens nobleness. 

Her wealth had been talked of; counted up, 
looked into ; now her beauty was the subject. Un- 
like the other women about her, her beauty was 
that which would be with her at all times as well 
as under the lights of a ball room. As she glanced 
at her guests, those upon whom her eyes fell felt 
that behind their kindly smile there was some- 
thing penetrating into their inmost souls and 
searching for that which could not be found or 
finding that which they wished to conceal. Eyes 
that they wished to avoid, but when once be- 
neath their magic glance they were drawn on or 
stood spell bound. 

Standing near the receiving ladies was a man 
who had seen Miss Eccleshire as no one else had 
seen her, or as he himself had never before be- 
held her. He had never awakened to her ex- 
quisite beauty as at this moment; all the perfec- 
tions of womanhood he seemed to see in her, and 
only hoped her to be the woman he thought he 
saw. 

Soft music floated in the air and its very tones 
seemed to enter into him. His thoughts turned 
from the nobleness of woman to the deception of 
man — of himself. He mused, ‘‘No woman knows 



“Catharine Edgerton,’’ exclaimed Harold, and turning’ he 
grasped his father roughly by the arm. — C hap, VII. 








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Eilene. 


63 


man as he really is; no, not even the man she 
honors most highly. There are things in man^s 
life no woman knows or suspects’^ — and as his 
eyes sought the face of Eilene, the picture <of 
purity, he wondered what she would think of him 
did she know him as he knew himself. He placed 
before him his own good qualities, his exceptional 
character, but at best he felt little fit to think of 
this ideal woman. Startled by a strangely fa- 
miliar tune, he realized he was in no place for 
dreaming, and resolving not to let himself become 
fascinated by her, he walked across to where she 
was standing, and an hour later the guests saw 
the new hostess waltzing in the arms of the 
prominent young politician. 

As they gently glided across the floor to the 
sweet music, as silently they were admitted into 
the hearts of those who beheld them. Most saw 
them as a wealthy debutante and an ambitious 
young lawyer; a few merely as two handsome 
people. None knew them to be two people who 
had resolved, each in their own way, to so capti- 
vate the whole of the great city, until the reins 
were theirs, and then to turn and guide it in 
their own way. Had it been known its accom- 
plishing would never have been, and yet not even 
guessed, its success was a possibility. 

When the waltz was over, Eilene went over to 
the other party, as a man of the opposing faction 
in the coming campaign came to claim her for the 
next dance. Although talking to him in the 
pleasantest fashion, her thoughts were busily en- 
gaged in counting up the days before the name 
of the mayor of New York would be announced. 


64 


Eilene. 


Startled to find it so near, she realized her work 
must begin immediately. 

Feigning weariness, she let Leslie Carter lead 
her into the conservatory, which was already the 
scene of many little parties, who had sought se- 
clusion. When seated she turned to him and said : 

suppose you are very busy these days with 
politics, Mr. Carter?” 

‘^Yes,” he replied, ^^the days are fast closing 
in upon us, and we must now begin for real work.” 

see the possible candidate of the Eepublican 
party is beginning to look anxious. Do you know 
I am rather in favor of his election, for though 
he lacks in administrative experience, I believe 
he would give a respectful hearing to some of our 
city’s makers, and those older in political ex- 
perience,” said Eilene, as she looked up knowingly 
into the face of the man she knew to be one of 
the Democratic ringleaders, and an infiuential 
member of the Tammany club. 

‘^Does he strike you that way?” remarked 
Carter, as though trying to ascertain whether she 
had spoken her true thoughts. ^‘He never ap- 
peared in that light to me, but always as though 
he was a man whose thoughts no one but Harold 
Stockton, himself, knew.” 

‘^Have you talked to him of late ?” asked Eilene. 

‘^No; I have been so busy that it has seemed 
almost impossible to get a few words with him,” 
said Carter. 

^^Now, do you know, Mr. Carter, if I were a 
politician I should pay more attention to the 
opposite party. I should try to gain the confi- 
dence of some member of the other side, for it 


Eilene. 


65 


seems to me, it must be a great thing to be the 
instrument to put a man upon the throne and 
then yourself be the power behind. Every one 
knows a young man cannot go into office and con- 
duct it like a man with experience, and there- 
fore the success of the party really depends upon 
its advisers.^^ 

An hour later Eilene bid the two. Carter and 
Stockton, farewell, and saw them leave the house 
together. Then she wondered if she had played 
her first card wisely. 

Meanwhile the Democratic party wheelhorse and 
the prospective Eepublican candidate had discussed 
the principal features of the campaign, and true 
to Miss Eccleshire^s words. Carter found Stockton 
a man who seemed so rigid in the hands of others 
as molten steel, susceptible to his own welding. 
When they separated Stockton’s thoughts re- 
sembled Eilene’s. He wondered if he had seemed 
pliable enough in the hands of the powerful 
Democratic leader. 

Carter went to his apartments and thought 
long over his talk with the beautiful Miss Eccle- 
shire. In her he saw a strong-minded woman, 
and yet beyond that, every embodiment of a life 
companion, a devoted wife. He had served the 
public, he had served society not merely to glance 
in upon the scene but to become a part of it. 
Through the shallowness, he could see clear to the 
bottom. He wished to leave it, to make a vacancy 
for some one else to fill; to let another step into 
his place and himself look down into the bed 
and watch the inhabitants pass to and fro with 
mouths wide open waiting to catch what was 


66 


Eilene. 


thrown in upon them or even trying to swallow 
up each other’s personality in their efforts to 
better their own existence. He had seen it all; 
he was satisfied enough not to wish, to linger in 
it, but step away into some quiet, shady nook 
and enjoy his days away from business care. But 
one more bold stroke of power and he would give 
it up. 

But why did all of these thoughts come upon 
him this evening? Why was he planning for 
the future and dreaming of a companion for life 
on this evening of all evenings ? Why did the 
sweet face of Eilene Eccleshire come up before 
him; she whom he scarcely knew? “But,” he 
said to himself, “she is worth waiting for, worth 
serving and if she is to he won by tireless devo- 
tion, she will be mine.” 

In other apartments of the same club house in 
which Carter resided, stood Harold Stockton. He 
had paused beside a table upon which rested a 
photo of a woman. She was beautiful; but a 
girl she seemed in the first glow of womanhood, 
and something in her face seemed to draw him 
toward her. “Poor father,” was all he said, and 
silently turned away. “Yes,” he mused, “she 
is truly the best woman I have ever known ; I ad- 
mire her; she is beautiful. I shall ask her to be 

my wife but he was not speaking to the 

picture. 

The lights were put out in the Fifth avenue 
mansion of Eilene Eccleshire, and she sat at the 
window, her white arms resting upon the sill, 
thinking of a new plan, of a proposed scheme of in- 


Eilene. 


67 


vestment suggested by her lawyers. It was an inter- 
est in one of the metropolitan papers and had been 
thought of some six months previously. Yet she 
had scarcely entertained the idea until the thought 
of its possible aid to Stockton entered her mind. 
She knew her interest would be unknown to the 
public, but to the editor her million-dollar trans- 
action would take considerable effect upon the 
course the paper took in the political world, did 
they but know her desires. 

And in this was a controlling power she would 
use unknown to Stockton at present, and hope for 
some future day, when his success became a cer- 
tainty to unfold her power to him. Three things 
she must now keep within her power: the confi- 
dence of Carter; the control of the newspaper, 
and the hold of the tenement district through 
John Sail. Then she could place the office in 
Stockton^s hands, and would have one in power 
who would give the apple woman on the street as 
good a chance of his notice as the millionaire 
masrnate. 

With this everlasting friendship with New 
York^s dictator in the personage of Stockton, with 
her own social footing in New York’s society, 
she would be able to make the final stroke which 
would bring her mother to the front and compel 
those who had wronged her to kneel in forgive- 
ness. 

At last deciding to close the contract that would 
make her controlling proprietor of one of New 
York’s leading papers, she sat down and wrote to 
John Sail; 


68 


Eilene. 


York. 

^^Dear Friend John: Come to see me to-mor- 
row at one p.m. Very important. I will attend the 
meeting with you to-morrow night. Be prepared 
to give me in round numbers the men you are 
sure of. We must win for the sake of your people. 

^‘Yours sincerely, Eilene Eccleshire.’^ 

She had just sealed the note when Muriel en- 
tered the room. She had not yet removed her ball 
dress, and looked beautiful. ^^Oh, Eilene,” she 
said, ‘Vasn^t it grand ! I never so enjoyed a ball 
in my life.” 

“My dear Muriel,” said Eilene, “you look fever- 
ish. Do you feel well?” 

“Yes, perfectly, Eilene. I never felt better, 
and I just came in to thank you for such a lovely 
evening, and kiss you good night,” said Muriel. 

And with a good night kiss she left the room, 
and two hours later, Eilene was awakened by 
Muriel’s maid, saying her mistress was very ill. 

Eilene threw on a dressing gown and went to 
Muriel’s room to find her tossing in a delirious 
fever, and crying out the name of Harold Stock- 
ton. Then did Eilene know Muriel’s secret, and 
a slight start came within her own breast, and 
she realized what she had not known before, but 
she put aside her own thoughts and ministered 
tenderly to Muriel. 


Eilene. 


69 


CHAPTEE VIII. 

The next morning Muriel was better, but 
though still confined to her bed, she begged Eilene 
to leave her and attend to her daily duties. As 
was her regular custom, the carriage was at the 
door at nine o’clock, and she started toward her 
lawyer’s office. She was ushered into a private 
room where a few minutes later two business-like 
men entered. Here they remained for over an 
hour, and when the door was opened Eilene Eccle- 
shire stepped out as the controlling proprietor of 
one of the largest dailies in Few York City. A 
carriage was waiting, which the four people en- 
tered and they were soon rolling toward Printing 
House Square. Here they entered the managing 
editor’s private office, and after receiving a few 
directions from the new member of the company, 
the editor-in-chief sat down and wrote the edito- 
rial which was the turning point in the paper’s 
stand toward the prospective candidates. He was 
going slowly, turning one wheel at a time, reserv- 
ing the large one for the final stroke, which would 
undoubtedly put into their readers’ minds the 
name they should select as New York’s dictator. 
On Eilene’s return she found John Sail waiting 
to see her. It was the first time he had ever been 
in the Eccleshire home, and he looked in amaze- 


70 


Eilene. 


ment upon the grandeur about him, which before 
he had only believed to exist in hooks. 

Eilene drew her chair close to him and began 
inquiring into the affairs that had taken place in 
the past two weeks at their union meetings. 

^^N^ow, John,” she said, ^Ve must work for the 
people, and in these next few days will be the 
hardest task we have yet had to accomplish. Tell 
me how many you think are not on our side?” 

“Well,” John began, running his hand through 
his hair, “to tell the truth. Miss Eccleshire, there 
is something working on the people which I can- 
not understand. There are not as many with us 
as before, and I am afraid if we can’t discover it, 
we will not come out ahead.” 

A troubled look came into Eilene’s face, but she 
arose and rang for the carriage to be brought im- 
mediately. “John,” she said abruptly, “I want 
you to take me to the secretary of the union, for 
I must see him before the meeting.” When in 
front of a clothing factory John and Miss Eccle- 
shire alighted, and upon asking for the foreman, 
were soon in consultation with the secretary of the 
union — a man of influence in the Sixth Ward. 

Eilene began talking immediately in a low tone, 
and as she bent her dark eyes upon him, he saw 
in her the same kind face of the one who had aided 
him a few years before, when he seemed to have 
no friend in the whole of New York. Miss Eccle- 
shire had forgotten him, but he could never for- 
get her. 

“Mr. Bevans,” she began, “I am going to speak 
at your meeting this evening, if you can manage 
to keep it away from the newspapers, and not let 



Wl.en Eilene stepped upon the platform and hea'd the cry 
Down in front,” she merely stood watching them.-CHAP. VIII 



Eilene. 


7i 


any of your people know who I am. I have some- 
thing to say to them for their own benefit. I 
believe you make out a weekly report of your meet- 
ings which you want made public and send it to 
the papers, do you not ? Well, keep this out, and 
I shall see that you are rewarded.” 

^^Miss Eccleshire,” said Alex Bevans, speaking 
slowly, ^^do you remember three years ago when 
you obtained work for me in the shop on Baxter 
street ?” 

A knowing look came upon her face, but she 
merely nodded her head. 

‘^Well,” said Alex, ^‘anything I can do for you, 
you may be sure I will do, although you know how 
little I can do to repay your kindness.” 

A gentle expression came into Eilene’s eyes, 
and she held out her hand and said, ^Thank you, 
Mr. Bevans,” and turning to John, said, ^‘Come, 
John, we must go.” As they descended the steps 
they passed a man on his way up, but in the dark- 
ness of the passage, Eilene failed to recognize him. 

Toman^s hall was crowded. Men, women, young 
boys and girls filled the room. A special meeting 
had been called, and more had turned out than 
ever before to know the reason. The leaders of 
several societies were present and speeches were 
to be made by different representatives. In the 
back part of the room stood a man, who although 
dressed in a coarse suit of clothes, did not re- 
semble the commoners around him. 

When Eilene reached the hall she stood at the 
door watching the crowd before her. One of the 
speakers was on the platform talking in his loud- 


72 Eilene. 

est and most eloquent tones. Yet he had only 
that part of his audience which was perhaps the 
most enthusiastic. In the rear of the room little 
groups were gathered, talking among themselves. 
At last the speaker had finished and loud clapping 
was echoed from all corners of the room, and not 
least among them were those who had not heard 
the speaker’s words. 

Sail now arose and, amid whispers, spoke out, 
^^Ladies and gentlemen, we have a lady with us 
this evening who wishes to speak with you a few 
moments. She comes from the greater city, and 
I hope you will listen to her.” 

As Eilene came forward from the back part of 
the room, and walked slowly up the aisle, heads 
were turned to look at her and those in front rose 
up in their seats to get a better view of the “bon 
ton,” who had come to disturb their meeting. 
When Eilene stepped upon the platform and faced 
the surging sea of restless bodies, and heard the 
cry from the rear, “Down in front,” she merely 
stood watching them. At last when their curiosity 
at sight of her had ceased , she began in a low 
voice : 

“Friends — I hope you will let me call you that, 
for I see among your faces many whom I have met 
before, many who know me, and whom I believe 
know me to be their friend. This is why I wish 
to speak to you this evening. For two years I 
have taken an interest in the people I see before 
me. You ask me why? Because I see in it all 
my pleasure, my happiness. I love to see others 
made happy, and you who know me, I ask ^Am I 
your friend?’” 


Eilene. 73 

Cries from all over the house of “Yes,” “Yes,” 
and then the stillness of death while eager faces 
were turned toward her. She continued: 

know why you are here to-night; I know 
why you have been meeting here for the last six 
months. Yes, and I admire you for it. You real- 
ize only too well that in this great city one of 
you alone cannot be heard, and it is only in a 
body you can make your strength known. You 
know as well as I, who have watched you for sev- 
eral years, that your voices have but little effect 
upon the men who sit in their offices and rule this 
town. 

^‘You know, should you go to the mayor of this 
city to-morrow morning and put in your petition, 
a man with more money could get in ahead of you. 
You know attention is not being paid to the dis- 
tricts in which you live. Laws have been made 
in regard to the cleanliness of houses which you 
rent, and yet the proper officials see these disre- 
garded and you can do nothing. At present we 
have men in office who are there because they are 
friends of higher officials. You of the humbler 
class, can never reach those places as they now 
exist. But let me tell you something, my friends. 
You can aid to put in office a man who will use 
no partiality; a man who will deal squarely with 
you. A man who will rule the city for the city’s 
sake, not for his own popularity, and that of his 
party. Do you want that man in office?” 

Cries of “Yes,” “Yes,” came from hundreds of 
voices. 

“You, my friends, are a power in this city. The 
wealthier classes fear you, fear your votes; they 


74 


Eilene. 


study you. To some they offer money ; some they 
give promises. But tell me, were the promises of 
last election kept, or did they forget all about you 
when your votes had been cast in their favor? 

^^Now, friends, I am going to tell you what I 
know of the two men who will probably be can- 
didates for the mayor’s office in this next election. 
I know one to be a man of money, who wants the 
place for honor. I know the other to be poor, but 
ambitious. The last has taken an interest in you ; 
he has been watching you; he has been with me 
into a few of your homes. He has seen New York 
in a manner the other never has. His eyes have 
been opened to your needs. Now I ask you, which 
will you have, the first or the last?” 

Cries of “The last,” “The last.” “Where is he?” 
were heard, and it was not quieted down until 
Eilene continued: “No; I want you to be sure you 
know what you are about and some night before 
the primary, I will be with you and then will tell 
you this man’s name.” A slight start went through 
her body, and a red tinge to her face as she saw 
passing out of the doorway Harold Stockton, and 
she knew he had heard her pleading with the people 
for him. 

When she had gained composure, she continued : 
“Friends, you will be surprised when I tell you 
the man of whom I have been speaking has iust 
left this hall.” 

Suddenly every head was turned back toward 
ffie door, and those nearest darted out just in time 
to see a cab hurrying away down the street. They 
then returned to join in the group who were now 
crowding around Eilene to grasp her hand amid 


Eilene. 


75 


shouts of applause. She had won their hearts, 
and with the warm feeling with which they grasped 
her hand she knew they were hers, heart and mind. 
She entered her carriage and was driven home 
with a tired body but a light heart. 


70 


Eilene. 


CHAPTBE IX. 

From the day Eilene had first let Harold Stock- 
ton see into the slums of New York as a woman 
saw them, his heart had gone out to the poor. 
He seemed to see them as Eilene did, and like her 
sought to do what he could. For lack of time he 
had not accomplished much, yet he had gained a 
faithful friend among them in the personage of 
Bob, his first tenement acquaintance. Bob had 
been very valuable to him on account of being a 
leader among his own particular tribe of street 
chums. Since Harold had begun to notice him he 
was growing more like his sister Nita. It was Bob, 
who knowing Stockton to be a man he would like 
to show his worth to, asked Harold to come to one 
of the union meetings, of which society he was a 
member. 

With a curiosity to see these laborers discuss 
their questions and wishing for a chance to study 
them in order to gain their confidence, he went. 
There he realized more intelligence than he ex- 
pected behind the rough words of the speakers, 
and he decided to stay throughout the meeting. 
He had heard John Sail announce the lady speak- 
er and had seen through the crowd, dressed in a 
rich black gown, a tall woman pass down the aisle. 
Something looked strangely familiar about the 


Eilene. 


77 


coils of black hair, and he arose with the curious 
crowd to get a better glimpse of the face of — Ei- 
lene Eccleshire. 

‘^Could it be possible For a moment he could 
hardly restrain his surprise; then an anxious look 
settled on his face as he watched her ; as she stood 
before the rough mob of people in the hall. He 
feared for her; for what would she say? Should 
she by some slight remark displease them, arouse 
them, they would turn like a tribe of barbarians 
upon her. 

‘Trovidence led me here to-night to protect 
her,” he murmured to himself. 

But when her gentle voice hushed the people, 
and her sympathizing tones reached out to them, 
he knew his fears were groundless. Then she grew 
more eloquent, and her face flushed with excite- 
ment as she denounced the present officials ; and as 
he heard the awful din of applause, he shuddered 
to think what this woman might be leading the 
crowd of excited people into. He caught her 
words concerning the present possible candidate, 
and hearing, as he leaned forward, her sweet de- 
scription of his character and realizing at once 
her object in going into this rough crowd, like one 
amazed, he snatched his hat and rushed from the 
room. He could stand no more. 

Hastening into a passing cab, he gave orders to 
be taken to the Manhattan. His thoughts were 
sadly confused. An hour later he entered the 
club room, and calling for champagne, sat down 
prepared to drown the bitter-sweet thoughts rush- 
ing madly through his brain. 

Just then Leslie Carter came up. 


78 


Eilene. 


“Hello, Stockton. What’s np; you look pale; 
are you ill? Come, come, old fellow. Don’t 
drink. Let me go with you to your room.” 

Seeing Harold hesitate, he continued: 

‘^Stockton, don’t do this. See what you have 
before you; see how all your friends are working 
for your success — and are you going against them ? 
Miss Eccleshire 

But before he had time to finish, Harold arose, 
and taking Carter’s arm, said: ‘‘Yes, yes, Carter, 
you are right. Come, we will go.” 

When they had reached Stockton’s room. Carter 
was the first to speak. 

“Stockton, you must be careful. You have 
much to accomplish in these few days. I think 
you will come out ahead. Yet we must not be 
too sure.” 

“Carter,” said Harold, “why are you taking this 
interest in me? You have always been a sup- 
porter of the other man. Why are you now as- 
sisting me, working for my election ?” 

“Because,” exclaimed Carter slowly, “I have re- 
solved to work for the man this time. Because 
Eilene Eccleshire thinks you are the man for the 
place; because I honor her above all women. 
Stockton, she is wonderful. Ah !” he continued, 
as if speaking to himself, “what would I not give to 
possess such a woman for my wife? The woman 
who to-day through me rules Tammany Hall.” 

With a trembling voice, Stockton said, “Then, 
Carter, why don’t you go in and win her?” 

“Because,” said Carter, “she is working now to 
accomplish a great good, and besides, Stockton, she 
does not care for me. I long to see her happy, 



“ Stockton, don’t do this. See what you have before you ; see 
how all your friends are working for your success.” — Chap. IX. 





Eilene. 79 

even if I am unworthy, and you, you are the one 
to make her happy.” 

^^Carter, you are mistaken. Her interest in me, 
in my nomination, is merely because she sees in 
it a great help to her in her noble work, in which 
she knows I may be able to assist. If you only 
knew that woman^s power over me; her very eyes 
seem to search out my inmost secret. In her 
hands I am as a piece of clay, not able to resist 
the pressure of her noble character. And yet I 
could not make her my wife, for she has the power 
to lead me, and my, wife must be one whom I can 
guide and protect. No, Eilene Eccleshire can 
never be my wife, and yet God knows how I shall 
be able to resist her. 

^^But why have I made you my confidant? I 
who have never let any man know my inmost 
thoughts. Why ? I know not.” 

^^Stockton,” said Carter, ^‘I am going now, but 
let me say, we are both men ; but we are honorable. 
I, too, have made you my confidant. We both love 
Eilene Eccleshire, but let us be brothers, not 
rivals,” and he put his hand out to Harold, who 
grasped it warmly — and Carter left him. 

^^No,” mused Stockton to himself, when Carter 
had gone from the room, cannot marry Eilene 
as long as, yes — as Muriel Nevins is near to look 
up into my face, and yet I fear she loves me. As 
those sweet words came from her noble soul to- 
night, I felt as though I could clasp her in my 
arms, and yet — Muriel.” 

The next morning when the papers were brought 
to him, his own name struck his eye. It was in- 
deed his own name that stood first in the eyes of 


80 


Eilene. 


the people. He arose and dressed himself care- 
fully. He would call on Eilene and tell her he 
had heard her words for him last night, and — he 
would be brave. Never had he realized how much 
courage it took in a man to ask a woman he be- 
lieves loves him, and whom he yet fears he 
does not love, to ask her that they always re- 
main friends. Duty and honor bade him call 
and thank her, for the turn in his favor. Yet he 
almost feared to trust himself. 

As he passed through his library, he stopped to 
watch his father, who had come in and had just 
picked up the picture he had so often seen him 
with. Harold looked at the man in middle life, 
whose hair was so white, and he wondered what 
had caused the sad expression on his face. Surely 
no man could sorrow over the death of a loved 
one as he had over the loss of his son’s mother. 

^Tather,” said Harold, ^^how are you this morn- 
ing 

^^Not so well, my son,” said the father, then he 
turned from the picture and looking into his son’s 
eyes, said : ^‘Harold, my boy, never marry a woman 
you do not love with your whole soul and 
strength.” 

‘^Father 

‘^Go,” said the old man. 

And wondering at his strange manner, Harold 
left him, stopping on his way to send their phy- 
sician up to see if his father needed care. 

As Stockton sat in the Eccleshire drawing room 
awaiting the coming of Eilene, thoughts came to 
him of the two women in the house — Muriel and 
Eilene. 


Eilene. 


81 


The thoughts he had formerly had, of winning 
Eilene for the position she might lift him to had 
now left his mind. She was too far above him, 
and he would conquer himself. But his resolution 
stood in a fair way of being broken the moment 
he beheld Eilene in the doorway. Never before 
had she seemed so stately, so beautiful. Dressed 
in black velvet, her beautiful arms uncovered, 
while the rosy tinge on her cheeks seemed like the 
shadow from the red roses resting upon her bosom, 
she stood. 

Never had she seemed so composed; never had 
he felt so ill at ease. He longed to rush and clasp 
her in his arms — though the next moment he 
should kneel at her feet seeking forgiveness. 

“Miss Eccleshire,^^ he began, “I heard you last 
night,” but he could get no farther. 

“I know it,” she said, while the tint in her face 
deepened into a deep red blush, as to the thought 
of what he might think of her actions. “I did 
not intend you to know it, but I suppose you came 
to tell me this morning you have also learned why 
the World has taken you up as its choice.” 

“No,” he said, “I did not know it. Can it be 
possible that you ” 

“Yes,” she interrupted, without waiting for 
him to finish. 

“Miss Eccleshire — Eilene,” he said, “you are 
the best woman I have ever known. I honor you. 
I admire you more thkn any woman I have ever 
met, and yet how can I repay you for what you 
have done, what you are doing for me? Will you 
accept this little token of my gratitude to the 
noblest of women?” 


82 


Eilene. 


As he caught her hand and held out a quaint 
ring, Eilene was filled with emotion, then taking 
the ring in her hand, she looked upon the inside 
and saw the Latin inscription, ^^Se Qui Vincit/^ 
With a sudden pallor surmounting her pale face, 
she said : ^‘Harold Stockton, how did you come by 
this ring ? Tell me she exclaimed. 

In surprise he arose, and as he looked at the 
stern expression upon her face, he imagined he 
had seen the same expression before. 

^‘Miss Eccleshire, that ring my father gave me. 
He wore it until I was of age, when one day he 
placed it in my hand and said, ‘Here, Harold, you 
are out in the world more than I. Take this and 
wear it; never part with it until you place it upon 
the hand of the woman you honor above all others.^ 
This is all I know concerning it. Can it be pos- 
sible that you have ever seen it before?” 

“No,” she said in a cold tone, “I have never 
seen it before; take it. It is unlucky. See the 
fire in those opals,” and she muttered in a husky 
voice, “Vincit.” 

“Please leave me,” she said, and overcome by 
emotion she sank into a chair and covered her face 
with her hands, crying, “My mother; my poor 
mother.” 

Harold, with one glance at the beautiful woman 
in tears, started toward her, then turning sud- 
denly, he left the room. When he had gone Eilene 
arose and murmured, “The time has come, dear 
mother. I shall not fail you now.” 

Hinging for a servant, she ordered things to Be 
made ready for her departure, and before noon she 
was speeding away to her home among the hills — 


Eilene. 


83 


Castelane. Never before had the way seemed so 
long; but at the sight of Castelane a great joy 
came to her when she realized she would soon be 
in her mother’s arms. When she entered the outer 
lodge one of the girls happened to be at the 
gate with a cart, and she was soon at the castle 
door. It opened, and she fell into the arms of her 
mother, whispering, ^‘The time has come.” 


84 


Eilene. 


CHAPTER X. 

On the evening of Eilene^s arrival, she sat down 
and told her mother all that had occurred since 
their last meeting. How her trust in Harold had 
increased from day to day, and how she had 
worked to put him in the place he was now in; 
how she had made friends with men she did 
not care for; for his sake had met women of in- 
fluence that he might interest them; brought 
Muriel to her home, that her father, an old leader 
in Tammany, might use his influence; ruled and 
even written editorials for the World that made 
his nomination possible, and finally used her 
friends among the laborers as tools for his election, 
which she believed would benefit them, and now at 
the crisis of success her castle had fallen at sight 
of the ring. 

‘^Mother, where is your wedding ring, that curi- 
ous old ring you have always worn ?” For answer 
Catharine Eccleshire drew from her hand the curi- 
ous ring in Roman gold heavily engraved and set 
with tiny opals the word ‘^Vincit.” 

^^How did Harold Stockton come with the other 
part of this ring; the part that finishes the in- 
scription 

‘‘Harold Stockton?” said Catharine, nervously. 
“That part belonged to this. It was a fancy of 


Eilene. 85 

your father^s to have the curious old ring. It 
appeared as one ring, but was really two. On our 
wedding day, he said, ^Catharine, you are to wear 
this always. But if at any time, when I leave 
you trouble comes,’ — you see he feared my foster 
parents — ^if that time should ever come send one 
of these to me, and I shall come to you at once.’ 
Laughingly I put the ring on, but sent the one 
part to him, when you were born, but he did not 
come. He was married again and did not love 
me. You have often wondered, my dear, why I 
did not go to him and claim him as my husband. 
Little daughter, what would it avail? Would my 
pride allow me to claim one, whose love for me 
was lost ? Love to me is sacred. I would rather 
love in silence; my pride wounded in thoughts 
of my unworthy lover. But Eilene, you say 
Harold Stockton wears the other part of this ring 
and that his father gave it to him. That I can- 
not understand, for no one but Edward Dante 
would have it, and surely Harold Stockton is not 
his son. But if he should be, then, Eilene, he is 
the son of your father, and Margaret Sunder. 
And you love him ? Oh ! Eilene, say you do not.” 

^^Ho, mother,” broke in Eilene, in a startled 
tone. 

Catharine Eccleshire looked closely into her 
daughter’s troubled face a moment, and then aT’ose. 
^'Come, Eilene, you must visit the girls and your 
old friends here this morning, and I will be ready 
to return to Hew York with you.” 

Eilene arose, and giving a glance at her mother’s 
face as she left the room, saw a determined look 
there she had never beheld before. In that look 


86 Eilene. 

she realized where she obtained her own will and 
strength. As Eilene passed from one room to an- 
other she stopped to talk to the girls she knew; 
now answering some questions in regard to their 
parents whom perhaps she knew, and in turn ask- 
ing them in regard to their duties at Castelane. 
As she looked upon the pupils of Castelane she 
saw in them — herself only a few years ago. 
Happy and free with only women com- 
panions, and now since her mingling with mankind 
in general she thought of the lights and shades 
in her life, the medley of Joys and sorrows. She 
could not but realize the broadening of her mind 
through these associations. Yet these actual ex- 
periences had after all merely served as a proof 
of Catharine’s teachings. 

Eilene was conscious of the admiring glances 
east upon her by the groups of girls passing to 
and fro through the halls to their various duties, 
and with that consciousness, she uttered a prayer 
that Castelane’s first class would not fail in Catha- 
rine’s hopes. Adella, now Duchess of Mancaster, 
was the most admired woman in English royalty, 
and the American girl was showing the mother 
country she was able to conquer English society. 
Like a young queen she ruled Harlheim Castle, 
and the Duke of Mancaster was her lord. She 
loved him and was proud to be in the position he 
had placed her, and in that pride she strove to 
show him his American wife, whose family could 
claim but one generation of state aristocracy, was 
the equal of his own kinswomen, who had de- 
scend^ from generations of nobility. Since her 
entrance into her English home, Adella had with 


87 


Eilene. 

her American push accomplished a great deal in 
a very short time. Harlheim Castle had been 
repaired until it was not only an ancient castle 
but a modern mansion. Here the select English 
society was received. Eilene was proud to think 
of Adella’s loyalty to Castelane by carrying out 
its ideas of household management in her English 
home. She knew the trials of the servant from 
her own experience at Castelane, and she knew 
how to treat them. So much, thought Eilene, 
need Castelane be proud of, of Adella, the 
Duchess of Mancaster, a true American girl. Ei- 
lene thought of her as her girlhood’s playmate and 
companion, while others saw her as the Lady of 
Harlheim. 

Of Winifred Gerald, she knew but little, she 
was traveling in the east, but as she 
felt that wherever she was, Castelane’s motto 
was being fulfilled: ^^He conquers who conquers 
himself.” Of Muriel, her friend, her sympathetic 
help, she could but think of one thing and that 
was, of her love for Harold Stockton, but here 
Eilene turned from the picture she had been look- 
ing upon and drowned her thoughts in conversa- 
tion with the girls. 

But a girl herself, she knew only too well how 
hard it was to conquer her own feelings, while on 
the other hand she saw her mother, a disciplined 
woman, now ready to conquer others. She had 
in her intercourse with the world met women who 
had seemed self-possessed to such an extent that 
their thoughts seemed impervious to penetration, 
yet by some unexpected remark they had been 
taken unawares and she had seen behind that re- 


88 


Eilene. 


serve — ^that which they had wished to conceal. 
But her mother, with her graceful dignity — would 
any one be able to fathom the thoughts behind 
those smiles? 

As Catharine came up, she laid her hand gently 
upon Eilene’s arm. ‘^Eilene/^ she said softly, 
^‘^have you ever seen your father?” 

‘^No, mother. I think he has been traveling 
and has just returned home,” the girl answered. 

^^Tell me about his son, for I am sure Harold 
Stockton must be his child.” 

Then Eilene gave a description of the handsome 
young man, who had always appealed to her as a 
type of noble manhood. ^^He looks like his 
father,” said Catharine softly. H am so glad; 
and Eilene, you resemble your father in many 
ways. Sometimes when excited, you have his ex- 
act facial expression.” 

‘Tt is strange,” said Eilene, ^^Harold never 
noticed the likeness, and yet I sometimes fancy 
he did suspect me in connection with his father’s 
life in some way.” 

When Catharine and Eilene arrived in the city, 
the coachman was at the station to meet them. 
Not long after, every servant in the Fifth avenue 
mansion knew Miss Eccleshire’s mother had given 
up living in her country home, and would here- 
after be their mistress. 

A few afternoons after Eilene’s return to the city 
the Eccleshire mansion was the scene of a fashion- 
able group of women. Like all of Eilene’s recep- 
tions since she had gained admittance into the 
whirl of society, this was a grand success accord- 
ing to the originators of up-to-date style. Beauti- 


Eilene. 


ful gowns were everywhere on display, for why else 
did they delight to meet each other in this ex- 
tremely formal manner, bnt to feel conscious of 
the admiration they created? Handsome women 
of the world greeted each other by a slight touch 
of the hand. All women of fashion. Some be- 
hind whose pretty faces existed troubled minds; 
Vvomen whose fair faces covered up dark deeds of 
shame and vice, and yet the world thought them 
good. Old ladies, middle-aged women who ap- 
peared young, and blooming buds, all from the 
hot house of fashion — cultivated. 

As Catharine received each guest, all this did 
not fail to sink into her mind, and when she 
touched the cold, clammy hand of Madam Stock- 
ton she knew she was face to face with the one 
v/ho to the world was the grandmother of Harold 
Stockton, but was to her the woman who had 
penned her the words which had ruined her life, 
so far as happiness goes. 

The proud old dame did not recognize in the 
little gray-haired woman before her the baby she 
had nursed when she herself was only a neighbor 
to the Edgerton family. She only saw a woman 
of prominence of New York society in whose 
graces she wished to be. Mrs. Dante had gone to 
France, and had returned as Madam Stockton. 
Although the name did not count for much in the 
French Eepublic, to the American woman, it 
sounded .sweeter than Mrs. Dante. 

^^Mrs. Eccleshire,^^ began Madam Stockton. 
Oh ! how strange that name sounded to-day in the 
ears of her who had at Castelane been Lady 


90 


Eilene. 


Catharine, and was not Mrs. Eccleshire, but was 
Mrs. Dante. 

^^Mrs. Eccleshire,^’ resumed Madam, hoping 
again to claim the attention of the woman before 
her, who seemed forgetful of her surroundings, 
have so longed to meet you and your charming 
daughter, who is such a friend to my grandson. 
He, you know, is my very idol,” and turning to 
Eilene, she continued, ^^Miss Eccleshire, I want to 
thank you for your kindness to him.” 

Eilene bowed over her grandmother’s hand and 
said : ‘^Madam Stockton, believe me, I am only too 
thankful, if I have been able to assist him in any 
way, and more so than ever since I know he is 
your grandson.” 

As Madam Stockton stepped on she failed to 
notice the bit of irony in Eilene’s voice, and little 
did she realize how overjoyed Eilene was that she 
had been able to raise Harold to the highest pin- 
nacle, for now the fall would be much harder, and 
the haughty Madam Stockton’s pride would have 
a more complete blow. ^^Yes,” she mused, 
spoke truthfully, I am indeed happy, and thank- 
ful.” 

As the last sound of the carriage wheels rolling 
away over the pavement from the Eccleshire resi- 
dence, was heard, the occupants, filled with gossip 
concerning the elegance of the reception, the 
dignity of the hostess, and the sweet face of the 
mother, broke forth in society gossip : ^^And it is 
whispered,” said one, ^^that she. Miss Eccleshire, 
is the supporter of Harold Stockton in his office- 
seeking for the mayorship.” 

^^Yes,” added another, ‘H have heard it said that 


Eilene. 91 

he could never have stood a chance for the nomi- 
nation had she not so worked for him. My hus- 
band says she is the most powerful woman in New 
York.” 

‘‘1 hear,” said the first, ^^that her infiuence is 
something wonderful in the tenement district.” 

^^No wonder, she spends thousands of dollars 
upon them, and I think she visits them person- 
ally.” 

^‘Well, for my part, I delight in giving to 
charity, but I cannot find time to visit them, and 
then if we furnish the money there are others who 
can see it is spent properly. We all have a cer- 
tain responsibility in this life and each individual 
has his own way in filling it.” 

In this manner the Eccleshires were spoken of 
by their own associates, but behind the public eye 
there was something in conception which would 
never project before the eyes of gossip, and that 
was forming in the mind of the mistress of one of 
Fifth avenue’s elegant structures. 

After answering letters sending messages, meet- 
ing requests, attending charity meetings, club 
meetings, and social gatherings, Eilene worked 
with policy to obtain her object and it was the 
talks she had with her mother that her greatest 
strength was gained. 

^^No, mother,” said Eilene, as she sat with her one 
afternoon, ‘Madam Stockton does not recognize 
you. So far, that is well. Oh ! how I will delight 
in bowing that proud old head before you ; how 
she will regret her past ; how her son will acknowl- 
edge his weakness. We will conquer yet.” 

An excited look came into her eyes and as she 


02 


Eilene. 


laid her hand upon her mother’s head, and as she 
stooped to kiss her, she noticed tears in her eyes 
and she knew too well that the wound in her moth- 
er’s heart which had been made so long ago by the 
lover and husband had not been healed. Eilene 
was not without sympathy, for she had tasted of 
love. Her heart had gone out to one who had 
never spoken to her but as a friend, but one whom 
she felt kept close watch of her every movement, 
ready to aid her when she could go no farther alone. 
As a trusty servant he was waiting his time, and 
his unspoken love and guarded words she respected, 
because she knew he did not know her feelings 
and was only waiting until she should give him a 
glimpse into her true heart. 

But she had other things to look to first, and 
then when that was accomplished she would yield 
her whole life to this man whom she felt was after 
God’s own image, true in heart, pure in soul and 
honorable in his dealings with his fellow men. 

Sometimes she regretted that she was the one 
sought out to fulfill the command, ^‘Visiting the 
sins of fathers upon the children of them that 
hate me,” but hoped for the time when she could 
fulfill the rest, ‘^and showing mercy unto thou- 
sands of them that love me and keep my com- 
mandments.” 


Eilene. 


93 


CHAPTER XL 

It was Sunday morning and Leslie Carter had 
driven to the door of Eilene^s home to wait for 
her. She had promised to drive with him in the 
park and he had come to fill the appointment. 
As he helped her into the carriage and took his 
seat beside her, he could not but notice the worn 
expression upon her face and his heart filled with 
pity and desire to protect her, to help her, to devote 
his life for her use. He knew she was troubled, 
yet he felt he had not the right to ask the cause. 
He dare not speak his thoughts and he could not 
dismiss them from his mind. As he looked upon 
her he fancied he saw her great love for Harold 
Stockton in her eyes. Manifold bravery he pos- 
sessed, yet his heart seemed filled with pain as this 
realization grew upon him. 

He had hoped upon this drive that she would 
let him share her sorrow, although he felt that 
place was already shared by Harold. As they 
drove through the park, past nurse girls with their 
little charges at their sides, he almost wished Ei- 
lene were one of their class, that he might not 
hesitate to proclaim his great love for her, to ask 
her to be his wife. 

He looked upon the poor but happy families 
sitting beneath the trees, laughing in their joy 


94 Eilene. 

at being able to enjoy the Sabbath morning to- 
gether. 

It was then he envied the laborer his happiness. 
They passed silent lovers promenading to and fro, 
thankful for their solitude in the great crowd of 
strangers. He glanced down at Eilene and saw 
that she, too, was drinking in the joy of the blessed 
morn. 

As the church bells rang out their joyous 
chimes, rolling over and over among the house 
tops, mingling with the sounds of the birds in 
the trees and reverberating again through the air 
about him, a strange thankfulness took possession 
of him and he thanked God in his own heart that 
he was permitted to enjoy the presence of the 
noble woman at his side. 

Again and again his heart thrilled with emo- 
tion as another chime rang out from a distant 
cathedral and he broke the splendid silence. 

^^Miss Eccleshire, Eilene, this to me is a fitting 
time to tell you that which is burning in my 
heart. I love you. Yes, so much so that your hap- 
piness is all I wish for. I know you love another 
man, and 1 thank God he is worthy, and I know- 
ing full well there is no hope for me, only ask that 
you will let me be your true and devoted friend 
and when the time comes for you to make the one 
you love, happy — I want to be his friend. Why 
do I ask you this, you may think ; when men would 
say my duty is to leave the woman I love, but 
whose heart does not respond to mine. Why? 
Because, Eilene, your noble soul has by its mere 
presence taken the world man from me. I have 
been better, am better and will be better all my 


Eilene. 95 

life for having known you. True, you do not know 
how you have influenced me in this way, but I 
desire to change from what I have been since hav- 
ing known you. Then let me be your friend and 
you be mine.” 

^^Mr. Carter,” began Eilene, with a delicate 
flush on her face, and a happy look in her dark 
eyes. 

‘‘No, do not speak,” said Leslie, who thought 
he could detect pity in her voice. “DonT, only 
say you will be my friend and let me aid you.” 

For the moment he was a coward. He dared 
not look into her face and see it unmoved; he 
would not allow himself to look at her as he 
spoke. 

“Only say I may be your friend,” said he, fear- 
ful of her silence, “and I will never again speak 
as I have now, unless — ^unless you give me a right 
to do so.” 

Her whole being seemed to All with joy. Every 
nerve in her woman’s body seemed tinged with 
new life. She had decided; she would give him 
permission now to tell her again the words which 
seemed to her so sacred, but glancing up, her eyes 
met those of Harold Stockton with Muriel at his 
side. Their carriage was coming toward them, 
and at the sight of Harold, she thought of her 
mother’s ruined life and she closed her lips, but 
the woman within was too strong and looking up, 
she let her eyes drink in the love pictured in Car- 
ter’s face, and said so low he could not have 
heard had they been any other words, “Yes, Les- 
lie, you may be my friend.” 

Harold and Muriel had passed and Carter, see- 


96 


Eilene. 


ing Harold’s apparent happiness and thinking of 
that look Eilene had jnst given him, the like of 
which he had never seen on woman’s face before, 
a strange happy fancy darted into his mind, and 
as if to assure himself he looked down at the 
woman at his side, but Eilene had recovered her- 
self and sat gazing upon the people passing in 
such a reserved and self-controlled manner that 
he thought he must have been mistaken. 

^^Mr. Carter,” said Eilene, as if forcing herself 
to break silence, am going to make use of you 
as a friend immediately. First, let me tell you 
frankly, I do not love Harold Stockton, as you sup- 
pose.” And then with an unbending dignity of 
tone she added : have only made use of him as 

a friend, for as such he has been to me in my work, 
in Baxter and Fulton districts. By the way, do 
you think he is a man to be giving me this assist- 
ance merely to promote his political welfare among 
those people? Do you think he would stoop to 
that ?” 

Carter was silent a moment. He was too sur- 
prised at her words to answer. But in a tone of 
faithfulness he said, slowly: 

^^Miss Eccleshire, Harold Stockton is an honor- 
able man. He is one I believe if made the mayor 
of this city will be justice itself. He has, it is 
true, worked diligently of late among the poor, 
but you are the one who rules there, not he. What 
work he has done in this district will avail nothing 
if brought against your work for several years. 
Yes, I hope to see him in office, and if he wins, you 
and you alone, will have put him there against 
gome of the best politicians of this city who are 


Eilene. 


97 


your opponents. I am aiding him all that is in 
my power and for the first time in years I have 
worked for the deserving man and not for selfish 
purpose.” 

Eilene saw by his words, that his faith in Stock- 
ton was staunch and she would not be able to 
turn him. She knew she could not openly tell 
him she desired to take Stockton down from the 
throne to which she had helped him rise. 

^^Then,” she said, turning suddenly to him, 
^^you think we will be successful? You think he 
will get to be what we have worked for?” 

^^Yes,” he answered. ^^Since the World has 
turned so decidedly in his favor, every one believes 
his success is established. In addition to that you 
know the way the union men are to vote.” 

^^Yes,” said Eilene with a slight smile, be- 
lieve I can depend upon them. I believe they are 
my friends and will do as is best for themselves. 
For once a sort of reformation has taken place. I 
believe they will vote their own votes for their 
man.” 

As Harold Stockton passed Eilene and Carter, 
a jealous feeling took possession of him, yet he 
knew not why. He felt a strange passion for the 
girl at Carter’s side, yet her he knew he could never 
rule ; while little Muriel, into whose face he could 
look at wish, he felt loved him with her whole 
soul. She was so tender, so yielding; she loved 
him with the devotion of a heathen to a god in 
whose faith she put trust, but whose works showed 
not. She was the one with whom a man of his 
disposition would be most happy, while Eilene’s 
will would over-master his own. 


98 


Eilene. 


He knew he did not love her, yet his wounded 
pride at her indifference caused him to turn to 
Muriel in order to test her feelings. 

Perhaps, after all, it was better she should 
turn from him; but why she did it, he could not 
determine. Had she not promised to be his friend ? 
Had she not made his nomination possible and was 
now making his election probable? Could her 
sudden aversion for him come from premedi- 
tated thoughts or could it be some sudden dislike ? 
If the former, then she was to be branded as most 
women he had known. 

But this thought could not remain in his mind. 
Had he not admired her from the very fact she 
was apart from the women he had known? Had 
she not gained her power over him from 
that very thought? With many misgiv- 
ings, yet beneath it the reluctancy to give 
up his faith in her, he resolved to see his father 
as soon as he set foot upon American shores, and 
find out the meaning of Eilene’s actions concerning 
the ring. How she had ever seen it before, he did 
not know. He had often had people remark at 
its unfinished inscription and for this reason he 
believed there was some mystery concerning it. 
He remembered asking his father about it, but Ed- 
ward had only answered by bowing his head with 
tears in his eyes, which he sought to hide from 
the eyes of his son. 

Harold loved his father, though perhaps more 
as a brother than as a son. They had been com- 
rades from Harold^s boyhood until of late years, 
when his father had taken to traveling. Edward 
Dante had moulded his son’s character, and they 


Eilene. 


99 


had been companions ever since he was taken from 
his grandmother, for whom he had a most un- 
natural dislike. 

Madam Stockton was proud of the grandson 
whom she had adopted and had tried in vain to con- 
quer his peculiar hate. She had always been 
kind to him, but from his earliest childhood, she 
could do nothing with him. Usually an affec- 
tionate child he looked upon her as an enemy and 
it was only after he grew to manhood that he 
showed her any consideration whatever. Even 
then he saw her pursue her ambitious aims to the 
sacrifice of others. He saw her influence over 
his father which he remembered as once having 
been so great ; this he saw wane, to grow almost to 
opposition. 

He had often longed for that mother who had 
died upon his birth. Often had he pictured her 
to himself. But of her his sorrowing father never 
spoke. Harold fancied in her the beautiful 
woman, whose picture his father had so often 
looked upon. Like her he imagined sweet, sym- 
pathetic Muriel to be; loving and yielding; com- 
manding or leading as circumstances demanded 
and yet her he had never seen. 

^^Muriel,^^ he said, turning to the happy girl 
at his side, ‘Vhat if I should not win in this cam- 
paign 

^"Oh, but you will,^^ said Muriel confidently. 
^^Just think what friends you have helping you. 
You cannot fail. I heard Eilene say, everything 
was in your favor.” 

^^Yes, but should Miss Eccleshire fail to sup- 
port me, then I would be an utter failure.” 


LofC. 


ioo 


Eilene. 


^^But you will have her support to the very end, 
for she is anxious that you be put into office. 
That is her highest ambition,’^ said Muriel. 

When he heard her words of confidence and 
trust he could not tell her his suspicions that 
Eilene was about to withdraw her forces and he 
would fall, fall with a wound in his pride too 
deep to be healed. How could he tell the girl 
he loved that the goal for which he had been 
aiming, would soon be put far beyond his reach — 
and by a woman. No, he would not tell her, she 
whom he loved so tenderly. 

At times he almost hated Eilene Eccleshire, 
then all would be dispelled when the thought 
of her magical eyes drew him to her, and he felt 
he could sacrifice all, everything for this noble 
woman should she deem it best. 

Muriel with her winning ways drew him on 
unconsciously. Eilene with her demanding look, 
he followed knowingly. Two women he loved; 
the one as a wife; the other as an idol to be 
obeyed whether in right or wrong. 

As Harold left Muriel in front of Eilene’s 
home, he saw a beautiful white-haired woman 
step from a coach and ascend the steps. She 
reached the door and turning he beheld the sweet 
Madonna face crowned with snowy hair. Never 
before had he beheld a face which appeared to 
him so divine, so beautiful in its lines of sor- 
row. 

As she caught sight of him, he noticed her 
start as she passed through the door. He turned 
to Muriel, and asked who she was. 

^^That is Eilene’s mother. You must come some 


Eilene. 


101 


day to meet her. Harold, Lady Catharine is one of 
Grod’s noblest of women.” He dared not tell 
Muriel he could not meet Lady Catharine as he no- 
ticed Muriel called her, so he only said he would 
be most happy to meet her, then left for his rooms. 

Since the opening of the campaign, Harold, 
finding John Sail to possess a fair education, had 
made him a place in his office, partly because he 
needed him and partly because of Johffis influence 
in the vicinity he had found him. John, upon 
Harold’s entrance, remarked : 

^^Mr. Stockton, have you noticed the World 
this morning?” and he handed him the paper. 

Harold needed but a glance at the first page 
to see in large head lines: ^^Stockton’s Election 
Somewhat Doubtful.” 

^^Yes,” he said, to himself, ^^as I supposed, she 
has begun her work.” He sat down, nervously 
looking the paper over, then turning to John, 
spoke. 

^^John, do you know the meaning of this?” 

^^No,” said John, cannot understand it. I 
am sure Miss Eccleshire does not know of it.” 

^^That is it, John,” said Harold. ^‘She is the 
one that is doing it. Do you not know she writes 
the very editorials of this paper now, since her 
purchase of an interest?” Harold continued in a 
trembling voice. 

‘^Are you positive of this?” exclaimed John in 
excited tones. 

'"Yes,” said Harold, hopelessly. 

''Then,” said John, "we must prevent her. She 
shall not do this.” 

As he spoke he arose and in his deep voice spoke 


102 Eilene. 

in a forbidding way that Harold had never heard 
him exercise before. 

said Harold, wondering at John^s ex- 
citement, ^‘how can we prevent it? We are power- 
less in her hands.” 

^^Does she not know,” said John, ^'that your 
defeat would be her fall as well as yours?” 

^^What do you mean, John Sail? For God’s 
sake, I can stand these mysteries no longer; tell 
me what you mean.” 

^^Harold Stockton,” said John, have served 
her; I have served you, but God knows my servi- 
tude is not ended yet. The debt is not paid. 
Therefore, depend upon me. You shall both be 
saved, but ask me no more now.” 

Half in anger, half in despair, Harold rushed 
from the office. He had made up his mind. He 
would go to his father and force the mystery from 
him ; he would find why Eilene had turned against 
him; why the old Eoman ring had caused the 
breech in which he saw his certain defeat, de- 
spite John’s words. 


Eilene. 


loa 


CHAPTEB XII. 

When Harold Stockton left his office John 
Sail sat for a long time in deep meditation. The 
time was close at hand. The slate makers 
and politicians were swarming the outer office 
trying to reach Harold. Every one with whom 
he came in contact seemed confident of his elec- 
tion, and yet he himself expected defeat, from 
the turn in the tide of the World. He could 
hear comments upon the change. Queries began 
to be made and doubts to take the place of con- 
fidence in the minds of many. At the last meet- 
ing of the union on Baxter street all seemed to 
stand for Harold, yet John knew Eilene’s power 
could change the majority at a day’s notice. He 
determined to go to her. 

As he stepped upon the street, everywhere the 
name of Stockton mingled with the noise of the 
passing traffic. He saw those who had already 
accumulated wealth, rolling by leisurely in car- 
riages; those who were just ascending to the 
rounds of luxury were carried along at a speed 
keeping time with their ambitious thoughts ; those 
who were just beginning to catch a glimpse of 
more money than for daily necessities he saw 
step with a lighter tread than they had known 
for years; then those who barely dragged out an 
existence he recognized by their slow walk upon 


104 


Eilene. 


the thoroughfares; and the starving he saw with 
faltering steps. Thus the panorama of mam- 
mon^s victims tnmed before his eyes and he re- 
alized the great need New York had of a cool- 
headed dictator. Harold Stockton^ John felt, was 
the man for the place. 

When John arrived at Eilene’s home a com- 
mittee meeting of the Associated Charities was 
in session, and she sent word she would receive 
him in the library, for he might be of assistance 
to them. At first John felt some embarrassment 
upon entering the room, when he recognized 
among the ladies present. Fifth avenue dames of 
untold wealth. But when once under the spell 
of Eilene’s warm welcome his self-consciousness 
left him. 

^^Ladies,” began Eilene, ^This is my friend, 
John Sail, from Baxter street district, and I am 
sure he can give us some good suggestions as to 
what can be done there, and where we can do 
the most good.’^ 

John saw his time now to show Eilene how ill 
they could spare Stockton, and he began: 

^^Ladies, you of such benevolent hearts, ready 
means and willing hands, I am very glad I am 
permitted to be with you at this meeting, for I 
am one of the people whom you have helped and 
are helping, and I, as one, may thank you for the 
work you are doing to redeem the poorer parts 
of this city. I perhaps know the attitude our 
people take toward you better than you may possi- 
bly know. I kno''v7 you have given them money 
and food. True, this is often needed, but that is 
not the principal thing. They must not be mad« 


Eilene. 105 

60 dependent upon you. They should not become 
habited to it. What they want, need, yes, must 
have, before they can be citizens in the true sense, 
is work, and, yes. Justice. You who have plenty, 
little know how dilhcult it is to obtain justice 
at the hands of officers of this city by those poor 
people. You little know how helpless they are in 
having their rights dealt out to them. What you 
can do to benefit these people more than anything, 
is to help put into office a man who will 
give an equal chance to all; who will govern this 
city through the voice of the masses, the majority, 
not the minority. You, as friends, can do this. 
Then this generation of poor in New York City 
will rise up and bless you.’^ 

As John sat down, coolly, Eilene could scarcely 
believe she had listened to John Sail in her home, 
exalting the man she had resolved to denounce. 
She saw through his few words, the women’s 
glances of approval, and when she saw them gather 
around John she knew he had planted his words 
where they had taken deep root. 

John left, after telling Eilene he would call 
again when she was at leisure, and the regular 
business of the meeting began. Committees were 
formed to visit the sweat shops, visit the ward 
schools, look after the sanitary condition of the 
district, and the meeting came to a close. When 
the last member had departed, Eilene went to 
her mother’s rooms and threw herself into a 
chair. 

^'Mother, what have I done? Here I have 
reared up Harold Stockton in the eyes of the 
people. I have brought up admirers for him. 


106 


Eiiene. 


and now I am afraid it is too late to accomplish 
the very object I have lived for, Madam Stock- 
ton’s humiliation through him.” 

‘‘Eiiene,” said Lady Catharine, “I saw Harold 
yesterday, and as I caught sight of those beau- 
tiful eyes, oh! Eiiene, such a feeling took posses- 
sion of my heart, I longed to clasp him in my 
arms, for, Eiiene, he is the image of his father, 
your father, the last time I saw him. Dear little 
girl, do you love your mother? Would you grant 
any wish I might desire?” she said, falteringly. 

“Oh! mother,” said Eiiene. “I would sacrifice 
my whole life, my dearest friends for your sake, 
though it break my heart.” 

“Then, Eiiene, I release you from the task I 
have put you to, from the duty I have raised you 
for; let Harold and his father go in peace. I 
love them too dearly; let them have their free- 
dom, and we will bear our sorrow in silence. Ah, 
much sweeter that memory than to exult in the 
thought, I had injured them through revenge. 
Forgiveness is divine, our Father says, and, Eiiene, 
I believe it. You and I can bear this silence, and 
no one in this wide world will know the proud 
Eiiene is a forgiving charity sister.” 

“Mother, I am glad, yet are we weak? Is it 
weak to give up in this way ? Is it weak to love ? 
Mother, Harold is my father’s son, and as such 
I shall always love him in silence. As such I shall 
help him to realize his secret ambitions, and God 
will help me.” 

“Yes, ^ye ought rather to forgive him and com- 
fort him, lest perhaps such a one be swallowed up 
with over much sorrow,’ ” said Catharine. 


;► 

1 



“He is coming home, John”— then he added in a painful 
tone — “to see my defeat.” — Chap. XII. 






Eilene. 107 

is true, mother; Harold^s life would be 
ruined,^^ added Eilene, ^‘and by this forgiveness 
so will we confirm our love toward him/’ 

When John Sail left the Eccleshire mansion 
he felt by the look on Eilene’s face that his words 
had been displeasing to her. He knew he must 
see her alone; for by her displeasure, he felt 
confident she intended to ruin the prospects of 
Harold’s success. Could she not see that by 
Harold’s defeat and his opponent’s gain her work 
among the tenements would be a failure ? Should 
she let his opponent go into office and his rule 
become manifest to the people, their confidence 
in her would be gone. She had promised with 
their support a man who would help them. She 
had made them her friends and should she fail 
in her promise, her hundreds of friends among 
the commoners would turn to bitterest enemies, 
and the breech between the poor and rich in New 
York City, would become wider than ever before. 
^^And her personal loss,” he mused, ^ffiut, no, 
the time had not yet come to tell her, the greatest 
loss of all to her proud spirit.” 

As he reached the office door, he met Harold 
coming from it. 

^^John,” said Harold, ^^Madam Stockton has 
sent for me. If I am needed send there for me. 
At 10 :30 send the brougham for me. Be sure 
and have it there on time, for I am to meet father 
at the landing. He is coming home, John — 
then he added in a distressing tone — '"to see my 
defeat.” 

John opened his lips to speak, but Harold was 
gone, and he was left in the office alone. But 


108 


Eiletie. 


for the steady click, click, of the typewriter near 
the window, all was quiet while mingled 
thoughts ran through John SaiFs mind, as 
he sat with head bowed upon his desk. 
His two benefactors; those two to whom he 
owed his life; and yet he felt he only deserved 
the severest sorrow at their hands. Not for any 
wrong he had done them, for God knew he had 
tried to atone the wrongs of others, but to be 
punished, he must bear out — ^^The sins of the 
father shall be visited upon the children unto 

He looked through the kaleidoscope of the past, 
at the little home in Old Castle, where he had been 
born, in view of the mysterious Castelane. He 
remembered the village gossip as to its use; the 
rumors of its mysteries, and the awe in which 
he as a child held the big mansion. 

He remembered his amazement upon finding 
his father had once been inside the grounds; 
then his own exile from home; his little sister’s 
love overcoming his wrong; his poverty, and Ei- 
lene’s rescue in time of need. ^^No,” he said, to 
himself, ‘H will never forsake her.” 

He turned again and saw Eilene change 
Harold’s thoughts toward the betterment of man- 
kind. He saw his own rising, through Harold’s 
aid. He looked upon the happiness the two had 
brought to him. “Neither could Harold be left 
alone.” 

He only saw the two hearts so intense in love 
or deep in hate; so proud and fearful of defeat; 
so ambitious and dreadful of a fall; so kind to 
a friend; so unyielding to an enemy. All this 
John Sail saw, and he resolved that the time had 


Eilene. 


109 


come when he must do what he alone had the 
power to accomplish. He must heal the breach 
between them, even to the sacrifice of his own 
downfall. Clotho had indeed spun a tangled web 
for him to loosen; had in part dealt kindly with 
him, perhaps to make the cut felt more deeply 
now. He felt the time had come when some one 
must be offered up as a sacrifice for the sins of 
the many; some one’s soul must be burned to save 
the few; some one’s life must be taken. Then 
let it be his own; fewer would miss him. He 
would do this as a duty to them for their good- 
ness he had accepted undeservedly. Their sor- 
row seemed to reach out to him and demand 
his honor, his pride, even his happiness. 

John’s head bowed upon the desk before him 
and thought of the happiness that had been his; 
the prospects of future prosperity, and his heart 
struggled within him. 

The typewriter clicked on and on while a light 
seemed to come into his face as he said to him- 
self, ^^The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken 
away, blessed be the name of the Lord,” and, 
picking up his hat, he started again to the home 
of Eilene, to offer himself up as a sacrifice for 
the sins of others. 


no 


Eilene. 


CHAPTEE XIII. 

It was a modern house with modern fixtures. 
Everything had the newness still shining on its 
surface; the servants were new; the livery was 
new; the management of the house was new; 
everything betokened a freshness in the extreme 
sense of the word. 

Madam Alvez Stockton felt content. She had 
reached that plane in life which to her presented 
the highest notch. ‘‘Had she not given up the 
common English name of Dante for the pleasing 
one of Stockton ? Had Stockton not money 
enough for the two to enjoy life? Did she not 
wear jewels which in appearance could compete 
with others in the city? Had she not a French 
maid? Was not her grandson at present very 
popular in New York’s four hundred? Was 
not Harold the most popular politician in the 
city, her son’s child ?” she questioned herself. 

Yes, she felt satisfied at last; for the first time 
in her life, could it be said Madam Stockton was 
a contented woman. She felt amply paid 
for her life-long struggle to be at the top. None 
cf her acquaintances could guess she was a middle 
class American woman before the marriage of 
her son to Margaret Sunder, the New York 
merchant’s daughter. How the name of Mar- 
garet Sunder called back to this remnant of in- 


Eilene. 1 1 1 

ferior aristocracy the fragments of womanhood 
that had rebelled against her ambitious desires 
of selfish accumulation at the ruin of her only 
son. But looking over all, Madam was satisfied 
when she saw the desires for her son fulfilled in 
the works of her grandson. 

As Madam Alvez Stockton lay back in her 
chair, the self-satisfying air took possession of 
her, as her idol, her grandson Harold, entered the 
room. How handsome he looked to the withered 
old woman before him. 

‘^Good morning. Madam,’’ said Harold. His 
voice showed no affection. Only profound re- 
spect accompanied his words. This the old wom- 
an looked for, perhaps the only disappoint- 
ment she felt in Harold. She had longed for 
affection all her life. She was a woman, and 
wished to be loved, but this had been totally lack- 
ing since the death of Edward’s father and Ed- 
ward’s wife, who really had cared for her. She 
felt she was respected but not loved, honored but 
suspected. She had longed, yet failed to attract 
that natural love she felt was lacking. 

‘^Grandmother,” said Harold, as he sat in a 
low chair, before Madam Stockton, “I have come 
here to ask something concerning my mother.” 

“Why,” said Madam Stockton, “there is noth- 
ing to tell of your father’s life, but what you 
know. When but a boy he graduated at West 
Point. A year later he imagined himself in love 
with Catharine Edgerton, but he could not marry 
her, because neither had any position in life. But 
this was ended when he visited her once in Cali- 
fornia. Upon his return he married your mother. 


112 


Eilene. 


Margaret Sunder. She was then the wealthiest 
girl of our acquaintance. I think they were happy, 
for your mother worshipped your father, and 
he seemed to do everything possible for her happi- 
ness. After their marriage, they went into the 
Western States, returning by the way of Chicago, 
where you were born, and your mother died. 
Your father then returned home with you, and 
placed you in my care. He then began his travels, 
which he has continued up to this time, with the 
exceptions of the intervals he has spent with you.” 

^‘Grandmother,” interrupted Harold, “what 
sort of a looking woman was my mother, and 
do I look like her?” 

“No,” said Madam Stockton; “but, then, 
Harold, you have seen the picture your father has 
of her. She was a fair little woman, whose only 
ambition was her great love for your father. 
While you are your father’s image, there is a 
stronger expression upon your face than upon his. 

“Had your father not sorrowed so much at the 
loss of your mother, I believe Edward would have 
been a much greater man, but his life was blighted 
at so young an age.” 

“Are you sure,” said Harold, “that my mother 
was as you describe her?” 

“Harold,” exclaimed the Madam in a tone that 
showed she was not used to being doubted, “what 
do you mean? Do you not suppose, I know my 
own son’s wife, your mother? Why did you ask 
such a question ?” 

“I meant no offense, I am sure, grandmother, 
but I have always thought, from the picture father 
has of my mother, that she was exactly opposite 


Eilene. 113 

from what you describe her. But,” he continued, 
must be going.” 

no,” exclaimed his grandmother, anxiously. 
''You have only made such a short stay. Why 
do you not come to see me of tener ?” 

"Well, grandmother,” said Harold, "you know 
I am 60 busy now over the election it is almost 
impossible to have any spare time.” 

"By the way, Harold,” said his grandmother, 
as if anxious to detain him, "of course you will 
come out ahead,” she continued in a confident 
air. 

"No,” said Harold, as he arose and began pac- 
ing the floor. "No, grandmother, my name now 
might as well not be up before the people. For 
my defeat is certain !” 

"What !” exclaimed Madam, as she sprang 
from her seat. "What are you telling me, 
Harold?” 

"This, grandmother, that I was weak enough 
to let a woman plan my campaign for me as far 
as I was alone concerned. Weak there, though 
I was and am strong enough to deal with the 
men around me. But my respect for Eilene 
Eccleshire led me to think her influence might 
place me on a plane higher than others could 
place me. This she could have done; this she 
was doing; but now from some unknown cause 
she is suddenly turning her forces, and my de- 
feat is certain. Oh!” he said, placing his hand 
to his head, as he stopped in his pacing to and 
fro, "oh! for the power to understand it.” 

"Harold,” said his grandmother, "what rea- 
son have you for it.” 


114 


Eilene. 


^^Grandmother/’ said Harold, ^^Eilene Eccle- 
shire had made the votes in the Baxter street dis- 
trict almost certain; she has completely won the 
aid of Leslie Carter, the leader in Tammany 
Hall, and at last bought the controlling interest 
in the World to make the success almost a fact. 
All this she did for me, because she knew I would 
aid her if once in power. You know how grate- 
ful, how submissive I have felt toward this 
woman. I called on her to thank her, to express 
my gratitude. No other way had I of showing 
my attitude and I asked her as a seal to our 
friendship to accept my dearest possession, the 
quaint old ring of father’s. As I handed it to 
her, her face turned pale, her whole countenance 
changed and she asked me Grand- 
mother 

But his speech was never finished. He rushed 
forward and caught Madam Stockton in his 
arms, just as she fell fainting. 

Laying her quickly back on the couch, he rang 
the bell for the servants. 

When the physician came down to Harold, who 
was waiting to hear the result of his visit, he told 
him she was resting quietly. Harold hurried 
out to enter the barouche to go for his father. 

When Madam Stockton awoke she was con- 
scious of the recent happenings. She fully be- 
lieved Eilene Eccleshire had something to do 
with the secret she had guarded so long, but which 
she now felt could be hers no longer, for she 
realized she would never rise from her bed again. 

‘^Harold,” she said softly as she turned her 


Eilene. 


115 


head to the maid who was standing by the bed. 
^^Where is Harold, my grandson, Gertrude?’^ 

^^He went away, but will return soon, so he left 
word.” 

‘^Send him to me as soon as he returns,” sighed 
the Madam, and she turned her face toward the 
wall. 


116 


Eilene. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

When the steamer pulled in at the landing, a 
tall, well-built man came down the gang-way. 
He appeared nnusnally melancholy. He had 
jnst returned from a trip up the Hudson, where 
he had searched among the inhabitants of Old 
Castle for some trace of the old physician who 
had brought the only happiness into his life since 
he had left Catharine in her California home, so 
many years ago. The village people told him 
the old doctor was dead, and when he told one 
old lady the occurrence in which he figured, she 
declared nothing like that had ever taken place 
there. She said: ‘^They were all good, plain. 
God-fearing people, and had been so for many 
generations. The only strangeness about Old 
Castle was the fact of its being near Castelane, 
the mansion on the hill.” At this mention Ed- 
ward had wandered up to Castelane, but could 
get no admittance. At the lodge a woman met 
him and told him Castelane was a private school, 
whose mistress was at present in New York City. 

Edward left the little village disheartened at 
finding his efforts a failure, and decided to give 
up all hope of finding the last resting place of 
his girl wife. Never before had he felt the love 
in his heart go out to his only son as when he 
saw him waiting for him at the pier. He felt 


Eilene. 117 

something unusual must have occurred or Harold 
would not have come to meet him, and Edward^s 
first question was to inquire if anything was 
wrong. 

^‘Yes, father/^ Harold replied in an anxious 
voice. ^^Grandmother is ill.^^ Then he told his 
father the circumstances. A puzzled expression 
came over Edward’s face, but he had become so 
accustomed to keeping his thoughts concealed that 
even now he uttered not a word. 

Father and son entered the barouche waiting 
for them, and in silence they drove to Madam 
Stockton’s house. When she beheld her son at 
Harold’s side, she trembled as though with fear, 
but as if with superhuman strength she raised 
herself and spoke. At her first words Edward 
could scarcely hear her, and he and Harold moved 
toward the bed. She beckoned the servants to 
leave, and the three were alone in the room. 
She raised her arms toward Edward as though to 
embrace him and as he bent over his mother she 
said: “Edward, my boy — forgive me?” 

“Forgive you what, mother?” he asked as he 
placed his hand upon her wrinkled forehead. 

“Ah, how cool it feels,” she said to herself, 
^fi)ut how little I deserve a son’s caresses.” 

“Mother,” said Edward, thinking her mind was 
wandering. “Mother, you must be quiet.” 

“Ho,” she said with a sigh. “But, Edward, 
I must say now what I have to say. My son, say 
you forgive me first.” 

“I will forgive you, mother, though God 
alone knows what I have to forgive you for.” 

“Listen,” began Madam Stockton. “Four 


1 18 Eilene. 

months after yonr return from your first trip 
west, I received a letter from Catharine Edger- 
ton asking me to tell her where you were ; asking 
that you come to her at once. She sent with the 
letter a ring, which she said to give you and you 
would know what it meant, and would come to 
her. She said she had something to tell that 
would surprise you ; that she was not the daughter 
of Senator and Mrs. Edgerton, but of an Eng- 
lish family. I had not then overcome my ambi- 
tious desire for you; I knew Margaret’s love and 
my influence over you. I wrote to Catharine 
and told her you were engaged to Margaret Sun- 
der and I returned the ring. Oh! Edward, my 
son, what have I done?” said his mother, as she 
saw the head of Dante bowed upon his arms at 
the foot of » the bed. 

‘^My wife, my Catharine. Oh! my Catharine,” 
sobbed Edward Dante. 

Madam Stockton raised herself quickly from 
her pillow. ^‘Your wife. Cod, pity poor Harold. 
The curse is on my head,” and dropping back 
Madam Stockton closed her eyes for the last time. 

4 : * ^ 

Madam Stockton’s funeral was over. Eilene 
and her mother heavily veiled entered the church 
and followed the body of Madam Stockton to the 
last resting place. 

Edward could not talk to Harold of Catharine, 
the woman he had so basely wronged. Time passed 
on and Edward did not mention his mother’s 
confession except when Harold asked him if 
Catharine Edgerton had been his wife, and he 
had answered in the affirmative. 


Eilene. 1 19 

Little did Edward Dante realize what his an- 
swer meant to his son. Given up to his own 
thoughts and trying to turn them toward the 
campaign, he forgot the impression his words 
left on Harold. Meanwhile Harold felt that 
nothing but a dark way lay before him. Only 
too plainly could he see Eilene’s dislike for him, 
he the son of her father and Margaret Sunder, 
who was not his father’s wife. She, the daughter 
of his father and Catharine Edgerton, his true 
wife. How he longed to clasp the girl in his 
arms and call her sister, but no. Madam Stock- 
ton was bitter in his thoughts. She had caused 
him to be at the mercy of Eilene and her mother. 
Harold wondered if he could censure Eilene if 
at any moment she would face the world and claim 
Edward Dante as her father. 

But why she and her mother bore the name of 
Eccleshire, he could not understand. Why the 
World's editorials still stood in his favor. He 
dare not try to seek it out. He would not allow 
himself to see Muriel. Downcast, hopeless, 
humiliated; all the pangs of a haughty spirit, 
broken, seemed to rise before him. For his father 
he felt the deepest sympathy, and never did he 
feel that as now, his father and himself needed the 
tenderness of a woman to comfort them in their 
adversity. Had the trouble come to him, and 
had it been associated with any but herself, he 
could have gone to Eilene, and she would have 
helped him. 

He had not as yet revealed to his father his 
suspicions as to who this friend Eilene Eccleshire 
was. His father had never met Eilene, although 


120 


Eilene. 


he had heard of her often. Never had he so deeply 
realized that the loss of Catharine, Eilene’s 
mother, was the cause of his father’s sorrow. 
Harold longed for the day when he could tell his 
father that his wife was found, yet that day he 
knew would be his downfall in New York City. 

Harold wondered if Eilene knew of her father’s 
existence. 

How those happy days at Elcourt came back 
to him when he and Eilene sat under the trees, 
and she promised to help him raise himself up 
in life. If they could only be recalled, those days 
when she told him of her life at Castelane. Now 
he knew the cause of her mother’s seclusion from 
the world. She was no doubt a broken-hearted 
woman; that woman he had seen on the steps of 
the Fifth avenue home. 

When Harold retired to his room, he had de- 
termined that his cares of the past few weeks must 
be laid aside, and he would go forth and meet 
his defeat, like a man at least. He wrote a 
manly note to Muriel, telling her he would like 
to be with her, but that business would claim him 
for the next few days, and he knew she would 
understand. He also asked her to pay his regards 
to Miss Eccleshire. As he closed the note, which 
had extended into a letter, the thought came to 
him of his late sorrow, that which would separate 
him from Muriel forever, and with that he de- 
termined to know the truth before he gave her up. 
His secret was unknown to the world. Eilene 
and her mother had kept it all these years. Now 
they had a chance to reveal it, and if they did 
not why should he. Surely many such things 


Eilene. 


121 


were unknown to the world. The desire grew 
upon him to know more of the cloud which dark- 
ened his life, and he knew that some place in 
California the records would prove the legality 
of his father’s marriage. 


122 


Eilene. 


CHAPTER XV. 

It was the night before the election. The 
whole State of New York was waiting breath- 
lessly to see which way the election would go in 
the metropolis. Everything was being made 
ready for the morrow’s work. The paid liquor 
men were preparing to work for that possible 
candidate who had intrusted to them the most 
money for their use toward his election. Al- 
ready the work had begun, and in the poorer 
districts the work was, as is usual, more effective. 
Like a bright star in some dead darkness did each 
saloon stand out to the people whose homes were 
in this vicinity. Pictures and music, reading 
tables and congenial companionship, gathered en 
masse to entertain the guests. 

Each saloon is crowded; the tired men and 
women, through with their day’s work, dread to 
return to their bare rooms for the night so long 
as there is any excitement along the street. Some 
seek the dives, others the mission houses. To- 
night the Salvation Army is out in full force; 
some with prayer send their voices up to the 
Almighty who is watching the deeds of man, 
while a few of the words are caught by some 
stray wanderer on the sidewalk. Under the Stars 
and Stripes the sweet voice of a Salvation lassie 
floats out upon the night air and the wayfarer 


123 


Eilene. 

stops to listen to the solemn words accompanied 
by the popular air he knows so well. Like a 
prayer her song enters the hearts of some, and 
as the listeners look into the true face of the 
devout girl, tears come to the eyes of many. 
Her whole soul fills with the music as she sings 
praises. Not for the crowd around her is her 
voice fioating upward, but her own thank offer- 
ing, as she glances into the den before which she 
stands. The door swings forward to let some 
stranger in and she looks upon a scene that was 
so familiar to her but a few months before, and 
as memories of those days gather around her, 
her voice fills with emotion and the unfinished 
song turns to a prayer of thanksgiving as she 
falls on her knees upon the pavement. The crowd 
pushes closer and watches the kneeling maiden 
with interest as her comrades continue the sing- 
ing. As she rises to invoke them to give up their 
lives of sin and some of shame, the tall form of 
a boy enters the circle and the army drops to its 
knees in prayer. A carriage stops by the side of 
the kneeling band and its occupants, John Sail 
and Miss Eccleshire, recognize ^^Bob,’^ little Nita’s 
brother. 

In silent contemplation Eilene regards the 
group of worshippers and her thoughts wander 
to the brilliantly lighted church in the center of 
the city, where she goes to worship, where only 
a certain class is welcome; where but a few 
months before a man of wealth paying several 
hundred dollars for a pew, was accused of trying 
to buy his way into heaven. Yet where would a 
seat be vacant for one member of this band in 


124 


Eilene. 


this church of aristocratic angels? Would the 
most devout member of that vast assemblage 
kneel with this penitent boy upon the street, if 
they knew by so doing they could save his soul? 
No — no room for him in their hearts, no room, 
thought Eileue; not enough in her own and yet 
a time would come when there would be an 
equalization of souls; when the Salvation Army 
would mingle with the members of Trinity. 

The carriage passed on and they saw the 
theaters, which upon this night were crowded, and 
the general din of the string bands upon the 
balcony, and the cry of the night vender with his 
hot com, mingled with the various noises of surg- 
ing humanity. Dirty little tots dodged in and 
out between the passers by, many happy for the 
moment in the thought of freedom. Happy to 
think they were not kept quiet in some ‘^Home 
for the Poor happy to think a sandwich or cake 
could be indulged in at any hour in the day in- 
stead of waiting like the poor children who were 
being cared for, until twelve o’clock. Happy 
to know a cigarette could be rolled and smoked at 
any moment, providing a cent was at hand. Oh ! 
the life of independence; how the little street 
gamin loved it, how he loved the flag of red, white 
and blue, when he knew it stood for liberty. Poor 
dirty, ragged, yet he was an American boy, and 
his big heart had the thrill of patriotic independ- 
ence more than the petted darling in the wealthy 
home. What did he care for charity; he scoffed 
at the idea. All that he wanted was work. Some- 
where among the neighboring tenements lived his 
ideal ; that was his ambition. Did he do any good 


Eilene. 125 

in the world? Why he was the happiest of boys 
when he took care of baby Denny for his mother, 
when she went to work in the shops. Proud as a 
policeman, when he played and kept baby out of 
harm until the ^'jailer,” his mother, returned. 

As he scampers off down Baxter and turns up 
the Bowery, he sees a carriage stop in front of 
one of the large buildings. A beautiful woman 
alights, she stoops and pats him on the head, but 
he is off down the street before she passes into 
the dimly lighted room before her. 

As Eilene and John enter, the audience recog- 
nizes them as their President and the lady who 
spoke to them at one of their previous meetings. 
Eilene glances about the room, and she sees among 
them not the ignorant poor, not the lazy, but the 
industrious, ambitious sphere of poverty which 
wishes to rise above the present position to some- 
thing higher. She sees among them that kind 
of poverty that will spend every effort to keep 
their children in school, the kind that accom- 
panies the little ones to the mission Sunday 
schools; the kind that wishes to spare their off- 
spring the lives they themselves have been com- 
pelled to lead. 

These were the people Eilene wished to help; 
these she longed to put into a position where 
they could help themselves. To-night she felt 
she had the coming year for them in her hands. 
For her selfish purposes she could lead these peo- 
ple to help place in power the man that would 
leave them in their present condition, or giving 
up self, she could place Harold Stockton in power 
and New York would feel true democratic power 


126 


Eilene. 


as it was never felt before. She rather expected 
Harold to be in the room, but in the crowd before 
her she could not distinguish him. But she did 
see Leslie Carter, as his noble face looked up at 
her out of the crowd. With a tremulous feeling 
for which she could not account, Eilene stepped 
upon the platform to speak to them, when a voice 
from the audience broke out: ^^Mr. Chairman, I 
should like to speak a few words before the lady 
begins.’^ 

Eilene turned to John with a questioning look. 
John looked at her as if telling her to ignore the 
one who had interrupted, if she wished, when 
through the hall there came cries of ^^Hear him, 
hear him,^’ and with a gracious smile, yet marked 
with defeat, Eilene stepped back and took her 
seat beside John. The one who had asked to 
speak now arose and in a pompous voice began: 
^^Ladies and gentlemen, I have something to say 
that you will be glad to hear. This woman is 
not here for what you think she is. She is the 
friend of Harold Stockton, and is trying to put 
him into office. She is one of the aristocrats, 
but she canT fool me. I can see, I tell you, ladies 
and gentlemen, what she is working for. Why, 
Stockton isn’t spending half the money Harmire 
is on this election. Why? Because it is not 
necessary. hTow he seeks to work us into elect- 
ing him by some other way. Friends, how is 
Stockton going to help us if he hasn’t any money 
to give to these parts of the city, while Harmire 
has thousands of dollars to help. I for one am 
going to vote for the man who spends his money 
among us people.” As he sat down a short ap- 


Eilene. 127 

plause sounded and several arose to their feet. 
One was first, however, in getting permission to 
speak, and, as though sorry for the words just 
spoken, he told how the ^‘lady’’ had helped him 
and his family; how he had seen Stockton help 
several poor fellows that were down almost to the 
grave in poverty. When he sat down John Sail 
started the applause with a satisfied smile upon 
his face. 

To hear the first speaker censure Stockton and 
Eilene was almost more than he could stand, and 
once or twice would have called him down but 
for the warning glance from Eilene that told 
him to remain quiet. 

Eilene began to speak in her usual quiet way, 
and with her eyes holding every one in the room 
in a respectful silence. She said: 

^‘Friends, as one of your own number said, I 
am, if you wish to term me so, one of the aris- 
tocrats. I do want you to vote for Harold Stock- 
ton. I know from him you will get justice. 
Harold Stockton is not spending money in this 
campaign as is Harmire. Men, are you going to 
sell your opinion, your vote, which is as valuable 
as the richest man^s vote in this city? Are you 
going to sell that for a few dollars to put a 
man in office who will in turn take twice as much 
away from you? Be men; guard your votes; 
keep them to use as your own will dictates. Vote 
for the man you want. Your vote is so valuable 
to these wealthy men, these capitalists, that they 
will win your vote at almost any price. Harmire 
was in office two years ago. Could any of you 
get a hearing from him when a man whom it 


128 


Eilene. 


would pay him to favor was asking for the same 
attention you wished? Were you shown equality 
in Harmire’s favors? You were kept away from 
the primary which nominated these men. The 
practical politicians were there in full force with 
their men to prepare the tickets you are now 
voting on. You can do little now but vote one 
way or the other. The time was, if you had at- 
tended the primary, that you might have nomi- 
nated another man. Yet you did not take the 
advantage given to you. You were kept in ig- 
norance. Then why, at this time, sell the only, 
remaining power you have? This the ring lead- 
ers would rob you of if they have the oppor- 
tunity. Your fate is in your own hands. Do 
with it as you will. Go to the polls to-morrow 
and vote to the dictates of some other man, or 
vote as your conscience tells you. I have only to 
say, Harold Stockton is your friend. I am your 
friend. Harmire is the friend of the wealthy 
alone, not of the poor.” 

She sat down, trembling with excitement. Her 
work was done. She had pleaded with her whole 
soul for the man whose father had blighted her 
mother’s life. 

She had read the morning papers, and she saw 
the World had put in its final stroke. It had 
foretold the result of the election; had made 
Stockton’s success almost certain among thou- 
sands of its readers. It had pictured in glowing 
colors the future of the city under Stockton’s 
reign, and had infused many minds as to its re- 
ality. 

The World had placed before its readers its 


Eilene. 129 

own wishes as though en facto, and the people, 
blinded, were ready to go to the polls and vote. 

The day was at hand; the booths were open; 
the votes had been traded, bartered, sold, com- 
manded and were now being counted. 

Harold Stockton sat in his office. John Sail 
sat at the telephone listening to every word that 
came over the wires in regard to the probable 
'results. The principal movers for Stockton 
throughout the campaign were in the office await- 
ing the returns. Smoking and talking, all were 
anxious, as each message was received. Harold 
sat back in his chair comparatively quiet. The 
clock struck eleven and a good report came over 
the wire. All men seemed satisfied, but Harold 
sat thinking of the woman who was controlling his 
success. 

Shrewd as were the men around him, little did 
they know Stockton’s thoughts concerning this 
night. He felt downcast, as he realized there was 
some mysterious reason why Eilene had supported 
him to the last. Guilt was upon him, he felt, when 
he thought of her. The clock struck twelve; no 
word came. Two sounded upon the night air — 
the morning papers went to press in Printing 
House Square; two reporters rushed in. They 
had found the news from underneath the floor 
where the votes were counted, one had heard the 
results and telegraphed it to his companion, who 
carried it quickly to put it in the paper. Four 
o’clock sounded, and as Harold leaned out the 
window of the office he heard the shrill cry of 
the newsboy, ''World, morning paper ! All about 
Stockton’s election ! Stockton Mayor of New 
York.” 


130 


Eilene. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

When Eilene heard the news of the election 
from the World office she ran to her mother’s 
room, in Joy at the news of her success. “Oh, 
mother, Harolds — my brother — has won!” she ex- 
claimed. 

“Yes, so I heard the newsboy cry. How glad 
Edward’s son must be. But, my daughter, his 
daughter is the power that knighted his son.” 

“Does it not seem sad, mother, Harold has never 
known a mother’s love. His mother died when 
he was a mere babe and his father has been away 
from him so much. But, to change the subject, 
do you suppose he will ever call here again?” 

“Oh, Eilene,” broke in a voice, and Muriel came 
bounding into the room, her eyes sparkling. 
Throwing her arms around Eilene’s neck she 
burst into tears. Eilene’s own breast was too full 
to form any words, and she merely stroked 
Muriel’s soft tresses. 

“Eilene, dear sister,” she said, in a choking 
voice. “You have made me the happiest woman 
in the city to-night. Oh, I am so glad, and you, 
Eilene,” and she looked up into the woman’s 
happy face, “you are the one that made him win.” 

Eilene printed a kiss upon the girlish lips and 
led her back to her own room. “Now, good night, 
Muriel. You must go to sleep, so as to look fresh 


Eilene. 131 

when you send for Harold in the morning to con- 
gratulate him/’ and she smiled knowingly as she 
saw Muriel’s face light up at the words. 

A feeling of sadness came over Eilene as she 
thought of Muriel’s love for Harold. She knew 
if Harold once became aware of the fact that 
Margaret Sunder had never been his father’s wife, 
he would keep Muriel from him. It only lay with 
herself and her mother as to Harold’s future. 
Did she but claim Edward Dante as her father, 
Harold’s name was ruined. Did she remain silent, 
the world would never know. How little it does 
know of the accidents, the inmost of hearts; how 
little of the secrets dearer than life itself. 
Eilene returned to her room to find her mother 
in tears. 

^^Eilene,” said Catharine, ^Ve wust now be 
content to go back to our old routine of life. We 
have let our affections overcome our own selfish 
desires. I no longer feel I could not see Edward, 
so I shall go into society with you. We will work 
together. I am glad, very glad, Edward’s son is 
honored, although my own desires are not satis- 
fied yet.” 

All again took up the general run of their daily 
life. Gay parties and formal receptions took upon 
them the old feeling of reluctant satisfaction. 
Perhaps among those whose future hopes were 
in the greatest state of expectancy was that of 
Muriel. 

She knew what gentlemanly tenderness Harold 
always showed toward her, and she could not but 
note the love in his eyes, yet never by word had 
he shown his love for her. She could not reason 


132 


Eilene. 


why, now after his success, he still kept himself 
from telling her what she felt he must feel within 
his own heart. She had not noticed the breach 
between Harold and Eilene until of late. It 
seemed to her they wished to avoid each other, 
yet for some inexplainable reason, they were con- 
stantly thrown together in society. 

To-night, at Mrs. Van Courtland’s ball, Muriel 
looked beautiful in her delicate pink satin ball 
gown, and as she stood beside the white-haired 
woman in gray velvet, Harold thought he had 
never seen two more beautiful women. 

As he reached Muriel’s side, she said: ^^Mrs. 
Eccleshire, I want to introduce you to the mayor 
of New York and my dear friend, Mr. Stock- 
ton.” Mrs. Eccleshire looked up into the noble 
face above her and a strange sensation crept 
over her. It seemed as it were a dream of years 
ago, and Edward stood by her side. But, no, 
it was her husband’s son. No trace of the boy’s 
mother, the woman who had usurped her place. 
He was the child of Edward Dante. For a mo- 
ment Catharine forgot some other woman had 
nourished^ him, and she longed to throv/ herself 
in his arms and call him, Edward. 

Something in the beautiful face Harold looked 
into held him spellbound. Under her gaze he 
felt he could do nothing without her permission. 
Here was the woman his father had wed. The 
woman who could brand him as an outcast. But 
he loved her, he longed to ask her to be his friend. 
How like her mother was Eilene. Ah — ^the 
thought had never before occurred to him — Ei- 
lene — was his own sister. Then one must bear 


Eilene. 133 

the name of shame — one must be the outcast. He 
looked again into the sweet face and saw it grow- 
ing pale. Offering her his arm, he said: 

‘^Mrs. Eccleshire, let me lead you out of this 
warm room into some cooler place.^^ As she leaned 
upon the strong young arm she thought of the 
days when she had leaned as trustingly upon 
his father^s arm, and a faintness came over her. 
They reached the cool air, and she lay back in 
the chair Harold had brought for her, as if one 
dead. 

When she opened her eyes upon the young man 
who sat fanning her, she said: ^^You are Harold 
Stockton 

‘‘Yes, Mrs. Eccleshire. Do you feel better 
now?” he inquired. 

“And you are the mayor of New York?” she 
continued, questioningly. 

“Yes, I am the man your daughter put into 
power,” he answered, humbly. 

“Oh, do not put it that way. She only aided 
you for a selfish motive, I fear. But I think I am 
ill. Will you bring Miss Eccleshire to me and 
call our carriage?” 

Harold hastened to do as he was bid, and, 
having seen them on their way, he ordered his 
own barouche and took his leave. 

Harold felt great work was now before him 
in his new capacity, and consequently kept closely 
to his office. Despite John Sail’s protests, Harold 
made him his secretary, and, although he could 
not understand Sail’s fits of melancholy of late, 
he decided that John would be the best man for 
the place. 


Eilene. 



Since the election Harold was compelled to use 
the greatest possible tact to keep the scheming 
politicians from securing from him the choice 
offices he had to deal out. He was invited to 
dine by their delightful wives, given parties by 
charming daughters and even admitted into 
family confidences in hope that he might ex- 
change. 

But, although Harold entered into all their 
plans heartily in this one way he seemed a com- 
plete failure, his confidences he kept to himself. 
A few of the political slate-makers received of- 
fices, while others were content with a friendly 
grasp of the hand, in hope for something in the 
future. He was sought more, because he seemed 
least obtainable. He started by holding open 
court, and the city knew at last a real democratic 
ruler had been put into power. Harold liked to 
talk to the people brought before him and often 
sent a man and wife from him, who had 
come to him for the purpose of being separated, 
these he sent off arm in arm with tears in their 
eyes at the thought of ever having had such a 
desire. 

Among his ablest helpers were the women of 
the city. From them he learned conditions of 
the alleys, as they now drove down them for the 
purpose of noting their cleanliness ; from them he 
learned the condition of the lodging houses; the 
needs of the poor. Never before had so many 
needy been searched out, both by public and pri- 
vate charities. He protected the poor by giving 
them work; he protected the rich by furnishing 
them laborers. All were equal in liis sight. He 


Eilene. 


135 


was the medium to which each must come. And 
the silent power that moved Harold Stockton 
was Eilene Eccleshire. To prove to her he was 
worthy the confidence and trust she placed in him 
was his aim. It was to him like showing her he 
would not fail in the great work she had believed 
him capable of doing. This had spurred him on. 
The only drawback to his now busy life was his 
father’s illness. 

Ever since the last words of Madam Stockton, 
Edward Dante seemed to have lost all hope for 
happiness in life, and now, as the warm weather 
began to settle upon the city, Harold felt his 
father would not seek to live through it. He 
had tried, in his own mind, to settle whether it 
was best to tell his father that Catharine was 
living. Then again, the look of scorn that Mrs. 
Eccleshire might cast upon the man who had de- 
serted her, might be worse than his father’s pres- 
ent suffering. 

As he looked upon his father, in whose face were 
lines showing the grief he had not been able to 
ovCTCome, the hopeless look that had taken the 
place of the dignified expression he had once be- 
held there, Harold resolved he would use all his 
power to turn his father’s thoughts. 

Going to his room he found his father sitting 
by a reading table, his head in his hands. At 
Harold’s entrance, Edward looked up. 

^Tather,” said Harold, 'T am going on a little 
trip into the West for a vacation, and I want you 
to go with me.” 

‘‘Harold, I hardly feel able to stand the trip.” 

Harold seated himself opposite his father. 


136 Eilene. 

‘That is the very thing you need. We will 
go to California, clear across the continent, and 
you will feel like a new man when we return.” 

At the mention of California a strange light 
came into Edward’s face, which Harold did not 
fail to notice. 

“Yes, Harold, I believe I will go. I think I 
should like to live over again those days of my 
youth, and I will take you, my boy, to those 
scenes so dear to me.” 

“Then, father, be ready to start in a week, for 
by that time I can arrange things to get away 
for a short time. We will consider it settled, 
then? In a week?” 

“Yes,” said Edward. 

From that moment until the time of departure 
Edward seemed in a state of excitement, and 
Harold was afraid for his father, lest the revival 
of old thoughts and scenes might overcome him. 
At last the time arrived and father and son set 
forth, Harold to learn — he knejv not what. 


Eilenc. 


137 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

As Harold and his father drove down Fifth 
avenue, past Madison Square, they met Eilene 
and Muriel out for a morning drive. The car- 
riage stopped, at Harold’s signal, as he wished 
to say good-by in the least formal way possible. 
When he told Eilene he and his father were going 
on a trip to California, a strange expression came 
into Eilene’s eyes. Harold noticed it, but as- 
sumed the greatest indifference, and turned to 
his father, who had leaned back in his seat. 

Eilene spoke: ^^Mr. Stockton, your father is 
ill. We will leave you. Good-by,” and with that 
first look at her father, Eilene gave the horses a 
quick cut in her excitement, and off they went. 
Harold took a flask from his pocket and moist- 
ened his father’s lips. This seemed to revive him, 
and by the time the Grand Central station was 
reached, Edward Dante had recovered himself. 

^^Who is that woman, Harold?” asked Edward. 

Although Harold knew well which one his father 
meant, he replied: 

^^They were Miss Nevins and Miss Eccleshire, 
two of my greatest friends.” 

thought I had seen one of them before, but 
I presume I was mistaken,” said Edward, in a 
tone which showed he wished the subject dropped. 


138 


Eilene. 


Arriving at the station they found they were 
just in time to take the train west. 

As the train sped on Harold saw the familiar 
scenes of the Eastern states through which he 
had passed so often. The green woods varied 
here and there with blossoms nestling beneath 
the overhanging branches over little streams of 
clear, running water, throwing up the shadow 
of the shore outlines in has relief. 

Again they come in sight of dark looking build- 
ings, with smoke stacks rising in the air like 
huge towers of ruined castles. 

Across the broad Mississippi, then turning and 
wending its way along the shore for miles, the 
train moved between great brick structures, black 
with coal smoke, on which, standing in broad 
letters were the names of great manufacturing 
firms. 

Winding in and out, gliding around and among 
other passenger trains, the Knickerbocker slowed 
up, and Harold and his father stepped into the 
great central depot at St. Louis. Not like New 
York’s station, crowded with fashion and foreign 
element. Here the Western immigrant and Kan- 
san farmer walked back and forth. Now and 
then a party of colored people stroll through the 
main entrance with pompous air. A broad- 
shouldered Texan cowboy sits down at the lunch 
counter; a group of big black-coated politicians 
are conversing in a loud tone as to the coming 
presidential campaign; a rosy-cheeked maiden, 
seated modestly in a seat in one corner of the 
room, waits for her train to be called that will 
take her to the Eastern school. Everywhere free- 


Eilene. 139 

dom and happiness. Not that suspecting look 
of danger, of distrust as in the East, but the 
friendly confidence of any neighboring traveler. 

When daylight had thoroughly settled upon 
them Harold walked to the rear end of the car 
and stood wrapt in admiration. As far as the 
eye could reach but two things were visible — ^the 
great sea of blue sky and the vast expanse of 
green prairie land. He could see the railroad 
curving and gliding over the country like the path 
of a monstrous serpent. Now a herd of several 
thousand cattle was passed and all would be 
vacant again for miles. At last the broad fields 
of grain were reached and the train seemed to 
cut its way through miles of corn and wheat, 
which was perhaps to be killed by the hot winds 
to-morrow, or perchance left as retribution for 
the crop failure of the past few years. 

Like the break in the monotony, the Arkansas 
river was crossed, with the muddy water rushing 
over its sandy bed, which in a few days might be 
perfectly dry. As an oasis in a desert did the 
trees spring up around the city which the brake- 
man called out. Through the tall cottonwoods 
and elders massive stone buildings could be seen; 
now one of white stone; now one of gray. Along 
the river bank, like miniature castles of the Rhine, 
rested the homes of wealthy wholesale men. A 
short stop and on again through fields and plains. 
The Italian sunset of America now glowed in the 
west. Great massive clouds; here a black mon- 
ster, edged with a tiny strip of gold ; there a blue 
boat floating in the mystic sky of blue and pink, 
side by side they float and glide and roll and 


140 


Eilene. 


tumble into huge masses and again slowly, silently 
settle down into rainbow streaks, gliding past 
the eye of man, while the great golden ball sinks 
down beneath the great grassy plain, to unknown 
depths and regions. 

The morning broke and far in the west minarets 
and turrets, capped with golden snow, rose like 
cathedrals in the air. Over massive rocks and 
crags and deep canyons and gaps; through for- 
ests of pine and fir; over serpent-like streams 
and now down in deep gorges and tunnels the en- 
gineer seemed guiding them. 

Everywhere was the mightiness of nature mani- 
fest; everywhere the massiveness of power; every- 
where was nature awing humanity with its splen- 
did wonders. 

When the first sight of orange groves were 
reached and the perfume of their delicate blos- 
soms, the vast flower gardens and fruit farms 
caught the attention of Edward Dante, his whole 
frame seemed to shake off the feeling of lethargy, 
and he was full of questions and information to 
Harold, who had hitherto passed most of the 
journey in the silent pleasure of contemplation. 

^^Harold,’^ said Edward, suddenly. ‘‘Look!’^ as 
they passed an orange grove. 

As Harold looked out he saw a young girl stand- 
ing under a tree bending the bough down over 
her head trying to reach the blossoms. Behind 
her stood a young man, in smiles, waiting — anx 
ious for the independent' miss to ask his assist- 
ance. 

‘H see them, father. They make a very pretty 
picture/^ 


Eilene. 141 

^^Such a one, my boy, as your mother and I have 
formed many a time years ago. Ah! if it conld 
be now/^ he added. 

did not know that my mother was ever in 
this part of the country 

^‘No, Harold, you did not, but she was. I 
have something, my boy, that I have tried to tell 
you time and time again, but always put it off, 
in the hope that the time would come when I 
would be able to get some trace of your mother’s 
grave, but in this I have failed.” 

^‘My mother’s grave !” said Harold, slowly, look- 
ing closely into his father’s face. He feared the 
man’s mind might be turning from his sudden re- 
vival of old memories. 

‘^Yes, Harold. Margaret Sunder was not 
your mother, as I have always led to suppose, but 
Catharine Edgerton, the only woman I ever loved, 
and whom I thought dead when I married Mar- 
garet.” 

^^Catharine Edgerton,” exclaimed Harold, and 
turning he grasped his father roughly by the 
hand. ^Tatharine Edgerton — my mother — ^your 
wife. Thank God.” 

And as if sudden light broke upon him after 
a siege of darkness, he looked at his father with 
an expression showing how deeply he had wronged 
him. 

“Yes, Harold, we were married in a little 
church here among the groves of California. I 
was then in the United States service, and my 
leave of absence was up. I returned home and 
took sick. When I recovered my mother said 
Catharine had died during my illness. I went 


142 


Eilene. 


west in search of her grave. I traveled several 
months to find something concerning her. I re- 
turned to New York and married Margaret Sun- 
der to please my mother. I felt I cared nothing 
for my own pleasure, and henceforth I should 
devote my life to others. I brought Margaret 
west, as I felt I could not settle down to city life 
again. We were stopping in Chicago where Mar- 
garet died. It having been the home of her girl- 
hood, I buried her there. I tried to drown my 
sorrow, for it had not yet been a year since I 
had last seen Catharine, my bride. I had found 
some joy in making Margaret happy. Yet it 
seemed almost providential that she too was taken 
from me. For one cold bitter night, after my 
return to New York, a young man came into my 
room with a child in his arms. He asked me if 
my name was Edward Dante. I told him it was. 
Then he placed in my arms the tiny babe and the 
first thing that caught my eye was the ring that 
I gave you long ago. The man said a woman had 
died, and before her death had requested that the 
babe should be sent to Edward Dante of New 
York. She said the ring would explain all. And 
it did, for that ring was the lower half of a ring 
I had given Catharine Edgerton the day she be- 
came my wife. I remember telling her that day 
I returned East, that if she wanted me before I 
could return to her, that she must send the ring 
to me and nothing could keep me from her. 
Perhaps, had I not so longed for something to 
love the incident of the child’s sudden appearance 
would have made me suspicious, but coming then, 
when my heart cried out for love — it seemed, when 


Eilene. 143 

I looked into the baby face that I knew the child 
was Catharine’s and mine. 

^The boy conld explain no more to me, said 
he knew no more. The next morning I searched 
the village of Old Castle over, but could find no 
trace of Catharine or any one who seemed to know 
of her. I procured a nurse for you, and when my 
mother returned from France, where she had 
been recently married, I took you to her and told 
her you were Margaret’s child, or rather that you 
were my wife’s child, and she believed Margaret 
to be your mother when she died. 

^^Harold, I am an old man now, though not in 
years, but grief has worn upon me greatly. I have 
longed for so many years for that part of my 
life which was so suddenly taken from me, that 
my life has been useless. You, my boy, must be 
what I might have been if Catharine, your mother, 
had lived to aid me. Oh! Harold, could you but 
have known your mother. She was so beautiful, 
so dear to me, only God knows.” 

As Harold listened to his father’s story, which 
had come so unexpectedly upon him, a new light 
deepened upon him and he resolved to make their 
trip as short as possible and return in search of 
the happiness for which his father so needed. 

He had come from New York in sadness; he 
reached California in joy. 


144 


Eilene. 


CHAPTEE XVIII. 

Eilene had seen her father for the first time 
in her life. She hated him, yet she pitied for her 
mother’s sake, so she tried to make herself be- 
lieve, that, were he her equal in strength, she 
could meet him with equal dignity, with coldness 
of heart; but the broken man she saw in the 
carriage moved her heart to gentleness and tender 
sympathy. 

When John Sail arrived at the office on the 
morning of Harold’s departure he found a note: 
^‘John: Order a dozen American Beauties from 
Thorley’s to be sent to Miss Kevins every day 
while I am gone,” and signed by Harold Stock- 
ton. 

“Yes,” he said to himself, “all that stands be- 
tween their happiness is myself.” Then he 
thought of the woman he loved and had loved for 
so long. He had now obtained that height where 
he was no longer the inferior of the woman he 
had been living for, yet what had he gained. 
Long since had both regretted the part played in 
Catharine Eccleshire’s life and felt they could 
only atone for that wrong through faithful servi- 
tude, unless reparation could be made. For this 
reason John was alone in the world, with no one 
but his sister. 


Eilene. 


145 


All the years spent in New York he had sought 
to gain a footing in the world; first for the sake 
of the woman he loved, and, later on, for his 
sister. While rising up he had been happy in 
satisfying his ambition, but when Harold began 
placing him still higher, his wrong began to haunt 
him, until he no longer felt able to control his 
emotions. Of John’s trouble, his patient, loving 
sister knew not. She did not even suspect her 
brother of loving any one but herself and Nita. 

John knew only too well the woman who had 
guided his course would never come to him until 
their wrong was righted, yet when that was done 
he felt the greatest punishment would be dealt out 
to them that they would deserve. But come what 
would, he felt that confession must come. 

Overcome by the kindness shown him, he again 
gave up pride and self and started toward the 
Eccleslure mansion. He felt like a man offering 
up his life. He would have to give up all; but 
he would clear himself of the sin brought upon 
him by his loved ones. 

Sail met Eilene like a guilty man. He raised his 
eyes and then dropped them suddenly, as he 
asked to see her mother. 

‘^Why certainly, John,” she said; will send 
her down to you.” 

When Catharine Eccleshire came into the room 
John arose from his seat and, saying a few words 
to her, they walked into the library, where they 
were alone. 

‘H wonder what John wants with mother,” said 
Eilene to Muriel as they were left alone. 

An hour later John and Catharine came out 


146 


Eilene. 

of the library and Catharine ordered the carriage 
to be brought at once. Eilene noticed the old tone 
of dignified authority in her mother’s voice when 
she told her they were going to Castelane at once, 
she and John. 

‘^With John?” questioned Eilene. ^^Why, 
mother, you will not take John into Castelane?” 

‘^Yes,” said Catharine. ^‘Just to-night. Not 
one of the girls will see him. We will return to- 
morrow, and perhaps I will bring Sister Martene 
home with me.” 

‘^Oh, that will be splendid,” said Muriel; ^^how 
I long to see dear Martene once more.” 

^^But good-by now, my dears,” and Catharine, 
placing a kiss on the brow of each girl, left them 
in curiosity. 

Only too anxious were the occupants of the car- 
riage to see Sister Martene, and more so as they 
came to the outer gate at Castelane. Catharine 
knew only too well the directions to give the driver 
for entrance, and John Sail stood inside Castelane 
grounds, where no man had stood since his father 
had closed the gates after himself twenty-five 
years before. 

When they arrived at the house Catharine lead 
John directly to the music room and locked the 
door. She then went in search of Martene, to 
whom she explained as the cause of her sudden 
arrival the bringing of an old friend to see Castel- 
ane. 

Martene, supposing it to be one of the girls 
who had been with them at some past time, 
chatted gaily as they passed through the hall until 
the music room was reached. When they en- 


Eilene, 


147 


tered and she saw the tall form of a man stand- 
ing by the window she was amazed; but when he 
turned and she saw in the handsome stranger her 
life-long lover, a death-like pallor rushed to her 
face and, turning, she threw herself on her knees 
before Catharine and cried out in agony: 

‘^Oh, Catharine, Catharine, forgive, forgive 
me !” 

As Catharine Eccleshire looked down upon the 
kneeling figure before her, so humble, so penitent ; 
as she thought of Martene’s long years of devo- 
tion, submission, of her servitude and love to her- 
self and Eilene, she placed her hands softly upon 
Martene’s head in silence. Then lifting them, 
she spoke gently: 

‘‘Martene, rise up.” 

The kneeling woman stood pale and trembling 
before her. Taking her by the hand, Catharine 
led her to John, saying: 

^^Take her, John, I forgive, forgive all.” 

Then turning, happy to know that she had 
joined the two loved ones, even though they had 
>robbed her of her own, she left them in silence. 

Three hours later two women entered the 
Eccleshire Fifth avenue mansion, while one man 
went to his sister and told her the story of their 
father’s temptation. 


148 


Eilene. 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

The Eccleshire residence was brilliantly lighted. 
Eilene and Muriel had joined a theater party, and 
had gone with Leslie Carter to the Metropolitan. 
Two women sat in the splendid rooms of Catha- 
rine Eccleshire examining an old ring. Martene 
took it in her hand and read, ^^Vincit.^’ 

And Catharine added, ^^qui se vincit.” Just 
then the maid brought in a card, and Catharine, 
with her heart throbbing with joyful pain, went 
down to meet Harold Stockton — Harold Dante. 

As she entered the room Harold arose and, ex- 
tending his hand, said: 

^^You sent for me, Mrs. Eccleshire.” 

Some way or other he felt she must certainly 
know who he was, and as he looked down into the 
beautiful eyes he could restrain himself no longer, 
and said in a low tone for the first time in his 
life, ‘‘Mother.” 

“My son,” was all she said, and as she felt her- 
self clasped to the breast of the noble young man, 
all the ecstasy of a mother’s love broke forth and 
Catharine wept in the arms of her own child. 

Harold placed his strong hand upon the white 
hair of the woman in his arms. “Poor little 
mother, how you have suffered, but it is all over 
now.” 


Eilene. 149 

^^JSTo, Harold, not over, but tell me how you 
knew you were my son, when I, myself, have 
known it but a few days/^ 

Harold then related the scene in California 
which prompted his father to tell him the story. 
He told her how they had gone to the little 
church, how Edward Dante had pointed with 
pride at the marriage record of Catharine Edger- 
ton, and how he had knelt in the little church 
and asked for forgiveness and renewed strength. 

As Harold told the story Catharine’s face filled 
with joy and love as she thought of the soldier 
husband’s life-long devotion. No resentment of 
his weakness entered her mind, but pity and 
love overfiowed. 

^^Mother,” said Harold, ^^does Eilene know 
John’s story?” 

^^No, I wanted to find if it was true before 
I told any one, and yet I dared not hope. I did 
not dream of your father’s, my Edward’s, devo- 
tion. Does it not seem strange that John should 
be the one to know and reveal to us this truth, 
which we might never have know otherwise?” 
said Harold. 

^^No,” said Catharine, ^^for, as you said, he has 
been battling for twenty-five years to conquer him- 
self and never could, until overcome by my chil- 
dren’s kindness.” 

^^Now, mother, I know why Eilene’s look 
thrilled my very soul. Oh, sister mine, at last I 
can repay you,” he added to himself. 

^^But,” he continued, must go to the club and 
break this happy news to father. Then I will 
bring him to you. But be prepared, dear little 


150 Eilene. 

mother, to receive not your Edward of old, but a 
broken-down man/^ 

^‘Come back as soon as you can, Harold, and 
I will keep Eilene up until you return.” 

Harold found his father in his accustomed 
place, sitting at the table gazing into the sweet 
face of the picture before him, at which Harold 
had so often wondered. 

‘^Did you think, father, I would not return? 
The fact is. Miss Eccleshire’s mother wanted to 
see me concerning you.” 

^^Concerning me,” said Dante quizzically. 

'^Yes, father, but, changing the subject, do you 
remember the face of the young man that brought 
the babe to you years ago and told you my mother 
was dead?” 

^‘No, Harold, I do not.” 

^^Well, John Sail was that man.” 

^Mohn Sail?” said his father, in an excited 
tone. 

‘^Yes,” added Harold. ^^Listen, father, I have 
a story to tell you. Years ago in California a 
young woman was married to a young soldier. 
His leave of absence was ended and he returned 
East. No sooner was he gone than word came 
to the young wife that she was the daughter of an 
English nofieman, who had come to America in 
the days before he received the title. She wrote 
to her husband’s mother, but received the reply 
that he was soon to marry a wealthy Eastern girl ; 
with the letter came the ring the wife sent to her 
husband. 

^‘The girl, thinking the mother’s letter to be 
one of truth, craved only the love she thought was 


Eilene. 151 

hers, but when the lover did not return to her, 
she cared not for other life when that joy was 
'denied. At times she resolved to go to the man 
who had wedded her and then the humiliating 
thought of being compelled to claim her rights 
rose up before her, and she resolved to keep her 
marriage silent to all who knew her husband. 
Taking her companion with her she went to Cas- 
telane-on-the-Hudson, which had been bequeathed 
to her by her father. Here she intended to finish 
her life, secluded from the world. One night she 
called her companion to her, for the two women 
were like sisters in their devotion, and said : 

^Martene, if my little one should be a dear lit- 
tle girl, keep her for me all your life, for I do not 
think I will live ; but if a boy, send him, with this 
ring,^ and she took from her hand the lower half 
of the broken wedding ring, which bore the in- 
scription, ^se qui vincit,^ and give him to his 
father, Edward Dante, New York City. 

^^The night wore on. The village physician 
came. The mother would not live, he said, per- 
haps never come to life again. An hour later a 
tiny baby girl was placed in the arms of Martene, 
the companion and nurse, and when the old phy- 
sician left, Catharine had revived, but the doctor 
took with him a brown-eyed baby boy, a ring, and 
a roll of money. 

^'Martene had come to hate the man whom she 
firmly believed had ruined the life of Catharine 
Eccleshire. She, herself, loved the son of the 
village physician. She had met him unknown 
to Catharine when on trips to the little town of 
Old Castle. Yet Martene was a woman of refine- 


152 


Eilene. 


ment and pride, and had determined never to 
marry the rustic lad while he was her inferior. 
The boy was poor and seemed unable to raise him- 
self beyond the village life, and, as if by chance, 
she conceived a plan by which she could help 
him. 

^^The temptation was great. She knew the old 
man loved his son, as she loved him. Had not 
Catharine told her to send the child to Dante, if 
a boy ! And was not a dear little girl left to fill 
Catharine’s heart ? No sooner thought than done. 
The old doctor was made aware of her plans. 
She would pay the son liberally to take the child 
to Dante. The old woman consented, and for the 
love of Martene, he told his son they were to de- 
liver the child to its father. John at first hesi- 
tated, but upon hearing the father’s name he con- 
sented, and when he had fulfilled his errand and 
saw the father joyfully take the babe to his heart, 
at seeing the ring, he felt he had done well. J ohn 
started to school, but was a failure in everything 
he undertook for years, until through my aid and 
a young woman’s kindness, he confessed. 

^^But, to return. The mother recovered and 
brought up the daughter, for she did not know of 
the son, brought up the daughter to the age of 
twenty, in a school she afterward established at 
Castelane for girls of wealthy parentage. When 
the girl became of age the mother told her of what 
she believed to be the father’s faithlessness, and to- 
gether they resolved to humble him in sight of 
the world. She had of recent years heard of the 
father’s remarriage, the death of his wife and his 
return home with a little son. 


Eilene. 


153 


the girl entered society she was noted for 
beauty and wealth. Much interested in charity 
work, she soon became popular in all parts of the 
city. In the course of time she met a young poli- 
tician whom she believed would aid her in her 
work. Through her influence and wealth she 
soon had him in a fair way of being elected to 
an important office, when she discovered he was 
the son of her father, and believed him to be the 
son by her father^s second marriage. She was 
now at the climax to which mother and daughter 
had aimed, when love stepped in, and she let him 
be elected.^^ 

^^And Eilene Eccleshire is my daughter, and 
your sister,’^ said Edward Dante. ^^Oh, Harold, 
take me to your mother, my wife, my Catharine.'’^ 

While Harold was relating the long story to his 
father, Catharine was telling Eilene the cause of 
the visit to Castelane. Just as she had finished 
Harold and his father arrived. When Harold 
stepped into the reception hall, he saw his father 
rush into the drawing room and clasp in his arms 
the white-haired woman he had left as a brown- 
haired bride. 

Harold turned, and walking across the hall en- 
tered the library. At sight of Eilene he, for the 
first time, put his arms gently around the twin 
sister, the woman he had always loved. 

Muriel, in her room above, little dreamed of 
the reunion that had taken place in the Eccle- 
shire-Dante home. The world knew not the 
romance that had taken place before her very eyes. 
It little knew the joy brought into the four hearts, 
as they sat until the wee hours of morning. 


154 


Eilene. 


When Harold and his father left for their 
rooms, to which they would go but a few times 
more, a change had taken place, which New York 
little dreamed of. 

It suddenly learned that the father of the 
mayor of the metropolis and the mother of the 
popular Miss Eccleshire were husband and wife. 
The community suspected the mayor’s secret am- 
bition was to become the President of the United 
States, but that the mother had given up her 
royal title of inheritance that this son might gain 
his secret desire, it did not know. That the man 
whom they had selected for the next ruler of the 
United States was an English nobleman they did 
not guess. That the ring Edward Dante placed 
upon his wife’s hand was only part of the one 
already there, and the inscription, ‘Vincit se qui 
vincit,” had been carried out; that the mayor of 
New York had loved, in a different manner from 
that he bestowed on Eilene, a little woman called 
Muriel Nevins; that the old school of Castelane 
would be turned into a well-known school for 
young ladies ; that Eilene was ready to give Leslie 
Carter permission to tell her again what he had 
desired to tell her a year ago. All this they knew 
in their own hearts, all this had been worked out 
day by day in New York City — and the world 
knew it not. 


Eilene. 


155 


CHAPTER XX. 

The steamer Campania had left the port of 
Stars and Stripes and had started toward the 
mother country. The Statue of Liberty was yet 
in sight, and as her raised hand held the light 
far over the ocean, like a beckoning hand, it 
seemed to reach toward Harold to return. As 
the ship receded from the last sight of land, 
Harold looked toward his mother, who was lean- 
ing on the arm of her husband. How beautiful 
she looked to him in the dim twilight. Harold 
turned to Eilene and said: ‘^Eilene, what shall 
we do^ shall we claim the title 

say not,^’ she answered. ^Think what 
it would mean. Our work would eventually stop 
in our own country. Better be an American 
citizen than an English subject.^’ 

^^Come,” said Harold, ^‘let us ask mother.” 
They stepped in front of the mother and father. 

^‘Mother, yonder is the ‘^Goddess of Liberty,’ 
oifering to me the throne of America, beyond is 
England’s Queen, commanding me to kneel at her 
feet. As an American citizen I may ascend that 
throne, but as an English subject my ambitions 
are of no avail.” 

Catharine looked toward Eilene, who would 
gain nothing by giving up the title and said: 
‘‘Daughter, what shall we do A knowing smile 


156 


Eilene. 


passed between the two as they thought of other 
sacrifices, and Eilene said : ^^Harold, be the Amer- 
ican nobleman by yonr own power rather than an 
English lord by inheritance. But, changing the 
subject, I have just been thinking, as we advance 
toward England’s shores, that Adella, Duchess of 
Mancaster, is certainly a remarkable woman to so 
satisfy English society, when she is an American 
girl.” 

^^Well, Eilene,” said her father, ^^no more won- 
derful than that Eilene Eccleshire Dante can so 
grace American society, when she is in truth an 
English noblewoman.” A smile went around the 
group and Eilene could not but notice the proud 
glance of her father as he spoke the words. 

‘‘Come, Harold,” said Eilene, as she led him 
away. “Do you remember a long time ago, when 
we sat beneath the trees at Elcourt, and you 
promised to aid me in ‘My Vacation Home for 
Young Men’ when the campaign was over.” 

A slight blush tinged her cheek and she noticed 
the loving smile on her brother’s face as he called 
to memory that happy day when he thought he 
loved Eilene. When he believed she had such a 
wonderful infiuence and power over him — through 
his great love for her. 

“Yes, we must make arrangements soon for 
that, and let us have it near Castelane. But, little 
sister, come over here and sit down, let me ask 
you something.” 

Eilene looked at him, as if half guessing where 
his thoughts had been running for the past half 
hour, when he said, “Eilene, do you think I could 
win Muriel to be your sister?” 



They had sought seclusion from the crowd and now they 
stopped and leaned over the rail in silence. — Chap. XX. 




Eilene. 


157 


^'Yes, Harold, that is just what you are to do 
as soon as we return to New York,’^ she said, 
quickly. 

^^Well, then, suppose I do. What will my little 
sister do?” he asked, seriously. 

‘^Don’t worry about me, Harold,” she said, and 
he knew by her look that she, too, had a happy 
secret of her own, which she did not, as yet, wish 
to tell, for she immediately left him and sat down 
upon the rug at her mother’s feet. 

The evening Eilene and Harold spent with the 
young people in the drawing room on board ship, 
while at one end of the boat, out in the clear 
moonlight, two lovers were walking in silence, 
promenading to and fro. The pale moon shown 
down upon the silver hair of the woman leaning 
upon the arm of the tall man at her side. They 
had sought seclusion from the crowd and now 
they stopped and leaned over the rail in silence. 

The man looked down upon the little woman, 
gazing far out upon the ocean, and his heart 
throbbed with joy as he silently placed his arm 
about her and stooping, placed a kiss upon her 
forehead, murmuring, ^‘Catharine, sweetheart to 
the last.” 

She looked up at him. ^^Edward, my husband, 
we are very happy now. We have been separated 
for twenty-five long years, now we are to spend our 
remaining days together and with our children.” 
As she spoke he clasped her hand between his 
strong ones and said: ^Tes, my children, our 
daughter, our son. They are noble, you are their 
mother.” 

"'Edward, do you realize that we are about to 


158 Eilene. 

lose our children in this moment, when we are 
reunited 

'^No, Catharine, my mind has been on nothing 
but you for so long that I have lost sight of every- 
thing else.” 

^‘Then you must be told, Edward, for Harold, 
our boy, has been taken captive by Muriel Kevins, 
and I bless them both with my whole heart. She 
will make a good wife for our noble son.” 

^^And Eilene ?” said Edward. ^‘1 have not 
noticed that she cares for any one in particular.” 

^^You may not have seen, but I have been aware 
of Leslie Carter’s love and silent devotion for her 
ever since I have known him,” said Catharine. 

^‘But why does he not speak, Catharine, if he 
really loves her?” 

“Why, because he has believed Harold a better 
man and better suited to Eilene than he. He be- 
lieved that Harold was in love with Eilene and 
thought her work for him was the sign of re- 
turning affection.” 

“Does Eilene love Carter?” Edward asked. 

“Yes, but Eilene’s love is that deep, still kind 
that knows no ceasing, and yet no overflowing. 
That steady, true devotion that lasts forever. In 
fact, her affections, I think, came by inherit- 
ance,” as she glanced smilingly into her hus- 
bandV face. 

“Who is this coming?” said Edward, and as he 
spoke Eilene came up, leaning on Harold’s arm. 

“We have been looking everywhere for you,” 
she said. “They want you down in the drawing 
room, where they are going to have some music.” 

As Eilene and Harold led the way Cath- 


Eilene. 


159 


arine could not but feel proud of them. A slight 
pressure Edward felt from her hand, and as he 
looked down upon his wife she smiled and said: 
‘^Edward, I am so happy, and all because I have 
learned that ^vincit se qui vincit.^ 

The music to-night stirred depths in Eilene’s 
heart which she had not guessed to be in existence. 
It had heretofore made her light-hearted and gay, 
but to-night it brought a silent happiness to her 
soul, which made tears steal into her eyes. As 
the people gathered around the piano, Eilene 
silently stole to the side of her mother and father. 
All seemed happy on the boat, but Eilene’s heart 
was filled with sadness. Something, which she 
could not explain, something was lacking in the 
gay party speeding away to the shores of ^^Merrie 
England."' 

Harold was asked to sing, and as his tenor 
voice rang out to the words of ‘Torgotten,"" Ei- 
lene seemed to be the only one who could fathom 
the feeling with which he uttered each word. She 
alone knew with what a heart he sang — ^to Muriel, 
far away in their native land. When he had fin- 
ished, there were the usual expressions of delight, 
when a college boy struck up ^^Carmen,” and all 
joined in with one accord, and a truly American 
evening was spent. With hearty enthusiasm 
every one seemed to be filled, until at last weari- 
ness began to overtake them. 

Finally some one asked Miss Eccleshire to sing. 
She could think of nothing which she felt in the 
mood to sing, for a feeling of homesickness had 
crept over her, when some one in the room sug- 
gested she sing her favorite song. 


160 


Eilene, 


Rising, she walked slowly to the piano. A few 
on board had heard her sing before. A few only 
knew the depth of her voice. She played a few 
strains and a new light seemed to spring into every 
face about her. A proud look of authority and 
possession crossed many a contour as her voice 
rang out : Country ’Tis of Thee, Sweet Land 

of Liberty.^^ 

Silence remained but for a moment, and then, 
as if the American hearts could stand it no longer, 
like a sudden breaking upon the ear at midnight, 
the officers on board ship, heard deep bass voices 
mingled with sweet-toned tenor, and above on 
deck the gentler hum of the sailors and all took 
up the strain; ^^Great God Our King.” 

Out on the midnight ocean, 

A silent ship sailed on. 

With loyal hearts and royal hearts. 

In souls filled through with song. 

And the Stars and Stripes at the masthead 
Floated hach and forth in the breeze. 

And re-echoed the word of ^"libertyf* 

As it rang out upon the seas. 


THE END. 








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